The Rain King
by Terri Botta
Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N A preview of Queen's sequel, The Rain King. Look for it to be posted separately very soon. **

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

Disclaimer: All rights to _The Vampire Diaries_ belong to Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, L.J. Smith and the CW. I just take them out and play with them. No money, no infringement intended, yadda yadda yadda. I'm poor so don't sue.

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Chapter One

He was living in Italy when he received the summons. The strange vampire hybrid found him one hot July afternoon in the villa he was renting on the Amalfi Coast. Some investments of his had paid off in spades, so he had decided to forgo his usual foreclosure squatting in deference to living a somewhat modest, but comfortable, life just outside of Praiano.

These were his mother's people, heralding from the bustling city of Naples, and, with his dashing good looks and flawless Old World Italian, he had fit right in. He'd spent a blissful four months surrounded by lemon groves, olive trees, good wine and hot women with the cerulean blue waters of the Mediterranean as his backdrop, and he hadn't been this content in the six years since he had made the most difficult decision of his life – or unlife as the case may be.

It had been a hard six years. A very hard six years. Harder in its helplessness and lack of progress. Harder in its lack of anything that could help him get rid of Klaus and wrench Elena away from his brother. In fact, the last six years had been an exercise in futility and frustration.

It seemed that things had started going wrong the moment he'd left Mystic Falls. It wasn't three weeks later that he'd been sitting in the back room of a voodoo shop in New Orleans, meeting with some witches related to Emily Bennett's son when one of them began to shriek. Soon the others followed, and he'd gotten a very, _**very**_ bad feeling. Witches knew when one of their blood was killed, and their keening made his already cool blood run colder.

When the wailing had finally stopped, they'd looked at him, and he'd known without them having to tell him that Bonnie Bennett was dead. A few moments later, his phone buzzed, and he was treated to a picture of her lifeless body, eyes staring straight ahead, in a message from his darling baby bro. He'd smashed his phone to bits right there, but he'd never erased the image of her blank stare out of his mind.

He'd been so angry. Enraged even, because he'd warned them not to try to rescue Elena before they had a plan. His beast was still in primary control, but he'd tethered it for the night, and he'd almost released it so he could drive back to Mystic Falls and kill everyone there who'd been stupid enough to go along with that suicide mission. It was only the entreaties of the witches that more death would not solve the issue nor would it kill Klaus that stopped him, but he had to admit that it had lit a fire under their pointy shoes to get rid of the Original Were-Vamp once and for all.

He wouldn't learn what had happened that night until many months later when Katherine found him in San Francisco. She'd come up to him in a bar one night as he tried to find a willing participant in Find, Feed, Fuck, and Make 'em Forget, and he'd nearly tossed her out on her ear. It wasn't until she'd blurted that she had news of Elena that he'd relented, and she told him the tale.

Witchy and Blondie had staged a rescue, bringing along Blondie's mutt, Lockwood. He was relieved to know that neither Ric nor Junior had been part of it, so at least _**someone**_ had listened to him. Witchy had magicked them into where Klaus was keeping Elena, but she didn't have enough Mojo to magick them back out. In the course of their escape, they were caught. Klaus had killed Bonnie outright, but he'd tortured Blondie with a werewolf bite. It wasn't until Mutt offered to turn hybrid in trade for Blondie's life that Klaus had relented, although Katherine thought Elena's hysterics might have had something to do with it. Regardless, the results were that Tyler became a hybrid, and Caroline became a minion of Klaus's, serving as Rebekah's handmaiden. Klaus had also compelled Elena after the botched rescue fiasco, and she was now bound to stay with him and not try to escape, so any further attempts to retrieve her would require force and a heavy dose of vervain.

Damon blamed himself for Bonnie's death. If he'd stayed in Mystic Falls, he might have been able to prevent them from executing their insane plan. Then again, if he'd stayed, they probably would have ganged up on him and killed him, so wondering how he could have stopped them was a moot point. But still, the loss of Bonnie Bennett was a severe blow. As young and arrogant as the witch might have been, she did have talent, and he could have trusted her to do whatever it took to free Elena from Klaus's clutches. Once she was gone, he'd needed to find another witch who was willing to take on the Originals, and those were in short supply.

Katherine had left him in San Francisco after staying a day or two and accepting the fact that no matter what she did, or how hard she tried, he wasn't going to sleep with her. He didn't really know why she bothered or why she didn't realize that seeing her was agony because she wore Elena's face. She found him again when he was in Peru hunting down an Incan shaman who had ties to the Bennett line. By then nearly nine months had passed since that fateful night in Chicago, and the pain was becoming more bearable.

The scent of Elena on his jacket and the clothes he'd taken from her bedroom had faded, but he'd had a custom pocket watch made that he kept on him at all times. On first glance it looked like a normal pocket watch, but upon closer examination, one would find a small latch on either side that popped open a secret compartment. One side had a picture of Elena – the one he'd taken from her mirror. The other had a small bundle of her hair rolled into a thin twist. The hair had come from his Camaro. Apparently some of it had gotten snagged in the stop gap of the seat belt at some point and several strands of hair had been ripped out. He'd found the hair when he was cleaning out the car to be prepared for long-term storage. He'd also found more hair clinging to the passenger seat, and he'd painstakingly plucked each strand until he had enough to make the twist. The watch joined the other two items that never left his person: his daylight ring and his No Mojo necklace, and whenever he felt the world spinning out of control, he would stroke its gold surface with his thumb to calm himself down.

In Peru, Katherine had found him in Lima just after he'd finished his quest. His search for the shaman had been both successful and a waste of time. Successful in that he'd found the man; a waste of time in that he'd known nothing of use. He'd been profoundly disappointed and pissed off, because not only had the trip been a wash-out, but he'd been forced to live on blood bags and llamas while he was out in the remote villages, and he'd developed quite a loathing for the hairy, ill-tempered beasts.

That time he _**had**_ slept with Katherine, mostly because he hadn't had sex in nearly a month, and it was either fuck her or go kill a Quechua Indian. He'd toyed with the idea of doing both since his beast was sure to agree, but he'd decided against it because the Incans had Old Magic that he hadn't wanted to be on the receiving end of if he'd pissed someone off. In the afterglow and pillow talk, Katherine had filled him in on the happenings back in the States, and she had a few surprises for him.

Surprises like there was still quite a bit of spunk left in Elena, even though Klaus had killed her friend, turned Tyler Lockwood into a hybrid, enslaved Blondie, and compelled her not to run away. In retaliation, Elena had found where Klaus was keeping Elijah and the rest of his siblings (turns out there were five Originals, all from the same family,) and she'd undaggered them all – waking Elijah and his two brothers, Finn and Kol.

Finn had disappeared almost right away; going off in search of a vampiress named Sage, a vampire he'd known himself from back in the early 1900's. She and he had been lovers for a time, and she'd taught him how to enjoy being a vampire. He knew Sage had been turned by Finn, but he hadn't realized that Finn had been an Original.

Kol left, too, after a short while, wanting to experience the changes that had happened to the world after Klaus had daggered him, but Elijah had stayed. Katherine reported that he was half in love with Elena, and Damon added him to the list of potential allies, though he had serious reservations about trusting him.

He'd been proud to hear that Elena still had some fight in her, but he'd been enraged to find out that Klaus had broken her back as punishment, paralyzing her from the waist down. Her injury was thankfully short-lived, however, when Elijah fed her his blood as payment for freeing him. Damon was grateful. He didn't know what he would have done if Katherine had told him that Elena was still disabled, as it was, he was furious enough to learn that it had taken her weeks to learn how to walk again.

Katherine had had no sympathy for her doppelganger, saying that Elena had brought it on herself. Damon had kicked her out of his hotel room stark naked and threw her clothes at her, stating that, if she did not get out of his sight, he would do his level best to kill her. He didn't know exactly what it was about his threat, but she took him seriously and vanished.

From Peru, he'd followed a lead given to him by Gloria, and he took her down into Haiti to meet with some bokors. During a ritual that involved a number of sacrificed chickens and an enormous amount of rum, he'd gotten his first real lead on a weapon that could kill an Original. Turned out the Loa weren't too happy the curse was broken either, and they'd been willing to toss him a bone. Nothing was truly immortal or invincible. Always there would be a vulnerability, however small, that could end a creature's life. As with all vampires, wood was lethal. In the case of Original vampires, a very specific wood was deadly: the wood of a sacred white oak tree. Such trees were very, very rare, but a stake carved from the branch of one would permanently kill an Original if it punctured the heart. Ash from a sacred white oak that had burned was what had coated the dagger that had immobilized Elijah.

When he'd asked the bokors where he could find a sacred white oak, their answer had been vague. In keeping with Loa's habit of making you work for it, all that had been given was the hint that the answer he sought was somewhere in his family's history. Maybe they'd thought that they were being mysterious by saying that, but he knew full well that the Salvatores had owned and operated the lumber mills in Mystic Falls, and if the tree in question had been on Salvatore land, it had most certainly been cut down. If that was the case, the milling records kept in the Salvatore library would tell him when the tree was harvested, and where the wood went after it was milled.

So ten months after he'd left Mystic Falls for good, he'd found himself sneaking back to rifle through dozens of dusty, handwritten ledgers. The information he was looking for was in the ledger for 1912, and he'd been mildly amused to find that the tree had been cut down and used in the building of none other than the Wickery Bridge. God, he loved irony, especially when he'd given quite a bit of money to the "Wickery Bridge Restoration Fund" prior to leaving Mystic Falls. Much of the original wood under the bridge had been ripped out and replaced with steel girders, and he'd seen the wood stacked in piles meant to be recycled into other projects. Most of it had already been repurposed, but he knew for a fact that the original sign from the bridge was still there because Carol Lockwood had given it to Ric to be restored. He'd waited for nightfall, then headed out to the bridge, ripped down the wooden sign, and got the hell out of Dodge before anyone had known that he'd come back.

The sign had made twelve Original killing stakes, half of which he'd hidden in secret caches around the globe, but he'd given Gloria two. He'd wanted to test the stakes out on an Original that wasn't Klaus, just to be sure they worked, so he'd set about trying to track down Kol or Finn.

Katherine had found him a third time in Seattle, which had seemed far too much of a coincidence to him. His No Mojo necklace should have dispelled any tracking spells that were placed on him so she shouldn't have been able to find him that way. In the pursuit of getting her into a compromising position where he would be able to subdue her, he'd fucked her senseless, using every one of his considerable lovemaking skills to exhaust her and make her vulnerable. If his prowess had surprised her, she didn't say, but he could tell that she'd been impressed.

That stood to reason because he'd been just shy of virginal when he'd met her, and pretty much everything he'd known about proper lovemaking in 1864 he'd learned from her. But they'd had such a short time together, and the interim 145 years had given him many decades to perfect his craft. When she was sleeping the sleep of the sexually sated, he'd snuck out of bed and gathered the items he'd amassed for his next move.

He'd known that she was taking vervain to build up an immunity to it, but there were herbs that could be added to vervain to increase its potency, and thanks to Gloria, he'd known how to brew a batch of super-charged vervain, which he'd put in a set of darts. He'd used one on Katherine, drugging her just enough to make her too weak to break the chains he'd put on her.

"Well... this looks familiar," she'd said, taking in her position on the chair he'd chained her to.

"Ya, think?" he'd replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Not that I not impressed by your deviousness, but to what do I owe this honor?"

He'd pulled up a chair, swung it around so the back faced her, and straddled it. It had been one of those chairs that had thin wooden posts that could easily be ripped out and used as a makeshift stake. He'd seen her eye the chair, and he'd known she'd taken it for the subtle threat it was.

"You're tracking me. I'm immune to magic, so I want to know how you're doing it."

"Maybe I just have a better witch than you do," she'd taunted.

He'd fingered the slats on the chair and took pleasure in her uncomfortable look.

"Okay. We knew we couldn't cast a spell on you, so it was cast on me. Since it was my blood that made you, it could be used to help me find you. I get a feeling of a general direction to go, and it gets stronger as I get closer."

He'd brushed aside the tidbit about using a maker's blood to find an offspring, and focused on the other part of her statement. "We? Are you in cahoots with Klaus?"

"Klaus? Fuck no," she'd answered with disgust.

"Then who?" he'd pressed.

"Stefan."

"_**Stefan?**_ Why would my brother want you to track _**me?**_"

She'd rolled her eyes at him like he was an idiot. "Because he knows you're trying to kill Klaus."

"And he wants to stop me…"

"No."

"He's Klaus's little bitch. Of course he wants you to stop me," he'd countered with a sneer.

"I might have slipped him some vervain," she'd admitted with mock guilt.

The news had shocked him. "So if Stefan isn't Klaus's bitch anymore, why is he staying with him?"

Katherine had given him a look. "You know why."

He'd sighed. "Elena."

"Without a way to kill Klaus, even if he was to take my little doppelganger away, Klaus would just hunt them down and kill anyone who helped them."

"True."

"Any progress on that?" she'd asked, batting her eyes at him.

He'd wanted so badly to tell her his plans, but he'd known better. No matter what, Katherine would always put herself first, and she could not be trusted. He'd avoided the question by releasing her from the chains, but she wouldn't be deterred as she's stood and faced him.

"Damon?"

"The less you know, the better," he'd said, a little wary of her.

"But you do have a plan right?"

He'd given her a cocky smile. "I always have a plan, Katherine, but you of all people should know how they work out. Best for you to skedaddle like you usually do."

"I know Finn is in Seattle, Damon," she'd told him, her eyes getting angry and maybe even a little worried. "You can't be thinking of facing down an Original alone."

"Now now, Katherine, you need to be careful. It almost sounds like you care."

"I do care. I do care about you, Damon," she'd insisted with as much sincerity as he'd ever heard from her, but it had been too little, too late, and it had only made him angry.

"No one cares about me, Katherine. I don't even care about me," he'd snapped.

He'd seen her flinch at his harsh words, and she shook her head. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Now why would I do that?" he'd countered with an innocent look, then relented. "I was being truthful when I said the less you know the better, Katherine. If things go wrong, you can't be implicated. You'd best go on back to wherever Klaus is keeping his little entourage."

"Ironically, they're in Vegas," she'd said.

He'd chuckled softly and shook his head. "Better than Cleveland, I guess. Go on, Katherine. Get as far away from here as you can. You want no part of this."

"This better not be the last time I see you," she'd warned.

"Right. The last time we had something to use against an Original, you admitted to letting me use it even though it would have meant my death. Somehow I doubt you've had a change of heart."

"Is that so hard for you to believe?" she'd asked, all hurt and offended. It hadn't fooled him for a second.

"Yes. You don't change, Katherine. You're the same manipulative, lying bitch you were 147 years ago. Now you'd best get out of here."

He could tell that she hadn't wanted to leave, but she'd done as he'd asked, and left the vacant house he'd been using as a center of operations. He'd waited another two days to make sure she was gone before going out to hunt Finn.

After all the preparations and angst he'd gone through leading up to the moment he'd shoved the white oak stake through Finn's heart, the simplicity of it had been anti-climactic. Surprise had been on his side, and Finn hadn't even seen him coming. At first, Finn had just looked at the wooden stake sticking out of him with amusement, but then they'd both been shocked when it, and Finn, burst into flames. Finn had died shrieking as the preternatural fire had consumed him and left behind nothing but a pile of ash, and Damon was glad he'd made twelve stakes because the one he'd used had burned up with Finn.

His success had made him euphoric, but his joy was short-lived because he'd no sooner gotten back to his temporary digs when Finn's lover, Sage, had ambushed him. He didn't know how she'd known that he was the one who had staked Finn, and she hadn't been giving him any chance to ask. Their fight had been bitter, and Sage had brought a helper with her, and he'd been certain that he wasn't going to survive the encounter, when both of his attackers had suddenly stopped in their tracks, began choking and vomiting blood, then they'd shriveled up and died just as surely as if he'd staked them. He'd stood in the room, looking at their desiccated corpses, and had gotten a very, _**very**_ bad feeling.

He hadn't cared that it was nearly 2 a.m., he'd called Gloria to tell her what had happened, and the witch had promised to look into Sage and her companion's inexplicable deaths. After he'd gotten off the phone, he'd packed up his few belongings – he'd traveled light in those days, and put as much distance between him and Seattle as possible. He hadn't stopped until he'd made it all the way to Denver where he'd stayed under the radar for four days until Gloria had called him back. Her news had been devastating.

All over the world vampires had been dropping dead for no reason. One moment they'd been fine, and the next they would be convulsing and dying shortly thereafter. All of it could be traced back to the night he'd killed Finn, and it looked like the horrible truth was that all the vampires that had died were connected to Finn's bloodline. Kill an Original and all the vampires he had sired, and all those they had sired, died.

After Gloria had dropped her bombshell, he'd drunk himself into a stupor for the next week, and it was in that sorry state that Katherine had found him again. Too far gone and destroyed to care what she thought, he'd spilled the whole sordid tale between drunken sobs. Kill an Original, and all his progeny died with him, and he had a one in four chance of killing the vampire who had sired his line, thus killing himself, his brother, Katherine, and Blondie. Katherine had destroyed him even more when she'd admitted that Klaus was the sire of their bloodline.

It had been over. Everything. All of his plans, all of his dreams of killing Klaus and rescuing Elena and his brother, had been shattered with one truth. They couldn't kill Klaus, and everything he'd done – everything he'd sacrificed – had been for nothing. It was enough for him to let his beast have free reign, and he'd shut everything off.

He'd disappeared off the radar after that. He'd traveled from place to place, never staying in one spot longer than a week. He'd killed when he wanted, fucked who and when he'd wanted, and lived a life completely devoid of any emotional attachment. The next two years had passed in a blur of blood, sex, and violence, until he began to feel the nothingness creeping up on him. He'd almost let it take him, but then Gloria had called to warn him about an attack planned on Elena's life. Apparently, since killing Klaus was impossible for anyone who didn't have a sacred white oak stake, and in fact, the existence of the stakes was a very closely guarded secret – as was the fact that he was the one who had killed Finn, a group of werewolves and vampires had teamed up to plot to kill Elena. Since they couldn't kill Klaus, they would kill the source of the blood that made the hybrids possible.

He didn't ask how Gloria had gotten her information. He had always known that she was a powerful witch, though he had never realized just _**how**_ powerful, and she had long ago earned his respect and trust. He went to the abandoned warehouse in San Diego where Gloria had told him the attack was being staged, and he had been surprised to find that he wasn't the only member of the cavalry coming to Elena's defense. There had been a number of Klaus's hybrids, including Lockwood, and, in the melee of fighting and killing, he'd seen both Ric and Jeremy Gilbert so someone had clued them in to the attack as well.

He'd known that he was still _persona_ _non_ _grata_ with Ric, so he hadn't tried to approach them, but he'd met Jeremy's met eyes from across the killing grounds during the fight. He'd been impressed with the boy's skills. At 19 years old, Junior Gilbert was becoming quite the vampire-killing Jedi under the tutelage of Obi Wan Saltzman, and Damon was proud of him from afar. He'd always known that Jeremy possessed his sister's iron core.

When their eyes had met, he'd seen Jeremy recognize him, but there had been no hate or anger in his expression. The boy had nodded once to him, and he had nodded back, each acknowledging the other, before they had returned to their own fights. He hadn't stayed for the clean-up after it was all over, but he had seen the smoke after the warehouse was set ablaze. He'd done his part by hunting down the stragglers and killing any of the conspirators that had tried to escape.

After the Battle of San Diego, he'd kicked his own ass and gotten himself back under control. He'd been angry with himself for checking out for two years, but he'd needed the break. Now that he was back to giving a shit again, he'd started putting his life back together. He'd decided that Elena was better off where she was considering the circumstances, and obviously Klaus was still very much on the ball where threats to his doppelganger had been concerned. It was still safest to leave Elena with Klaus, and he'd accepted that. Instead, he'd turned to taking care of those who were important to her.

He'd discovered that Junior had applied and had been accepted to NYU, which was where he was attending his freshman year. Damon saw to it that Jeremy received grants and scholarships to pay for his education. When Jeremy had put the Gilbert house up for sale, Damon had bought it through one of the shell companies he owned. He'd also positioned himself through a different shell company to manage the rental of the lake house for Jeremy to give him extra income, and he'd made sure investments for the boy were sound and profitable. No one could say that he hadn't inherited Giuseppe Salvatore's business sense. It was too bad his father had been too busy being disappointed in him to see that.

As for Alaric, Damon had pulled some strings to get him a cushy job at Berkeley in their U.S. History department. He'd kept his eye on his former friend after that, steering his career in subtle ways in the background, making sure he was approved for research grants (funded by one of his shell corps, of course) and on track to make tenure.

He'd even made sure Matt Donovan got a football scholarship to Clemson.

He spent the next three years finding himself again. He'd wasted the first 145 years of his vampire existence pining for his lost love and hating his brother, and the next four either chasing after a girl who couldn't love him or drinking himself into emotionless oblivion. Now for the first time, he had no agenda, no plans to make, no one to hate or chase after. He had eternity and he decided to take some time to rediscover the man he used to be.

As a human he'd loved art and literature, beautiful women and thoughtful men. Had his father not insisted that he come home to join the Confederacy, he would have stayed at university and completed his education. He had liked big ideas and colorful places, and he traveled the world to look at it with new, fresh eyes. He had taken Gloria on a tour of the globe, letting her choose where she had wanted to go and what she had wanted to see. They were even lovers for a brief time until she'd told him that she knew no one would ever hold his heart the way Elena did, and they'd parted as friends and respected allies.

Katherine would find him every now and then, probably at the request of his brother, and he was always glad to see her. He'd accepted her for what she was: someone he had loved deeply and lost to her own selfishness, someone he could only trust as far as their goals coincided, yet someone who knew him, and who he knew well. They'd meet as friends, and he never slept with her again after that night in Seattle. If that bothered her, he couldn't care. She never asked, and he never offered.

She did drop hints that things were not all lovely dovey in Paradise, however. In fact, she'd come right out and told him that Elena and Stefan were not "together." Stefan was with Rebekah, and Rebekah didn't share. At least she didn't share Stefan's heart. If all Elena had wanted from Stefan was sex, she probably could've had that as much as she wanted, but since there was an emotional attachment in the relationship it was verboten. Katherine described the relationship between Rebekah and Elena as strained, but civil. Klaus had declared Elena off-limits to his sister, and Stefan obviously still had strong feelings for her.

As for Elena's feelings for Stefan… Katherine never came right out and said that the Epic Love was no longer so epic, but she did say things about Elena "maturing" and "out growing" her teenaged infatuations. He hoped so because she was approaching 24 years of age.

By the time Klaus's lackey had found him in Italy, he hadn't seen Elena in six years, but he'd made peace with himself and his decisions. He knew that he still loved her, and, if he had known then what he knew now, he would have made different choices, but there was no second-guessing himself and hindsight was always 20/20. He'd made mistakes, but he owned them, just as he owned his pain and took responsibility for it.

He'd become his essential self: thoughtful and fun-loving with the potential to be ruthless and uncompromising. He still loved with everything he had, and kept faith with those who kept faith with him. He still protected those he cared about and killed when he had to, but sometimes he hunted just for the thrill of the chase and the pleasure of the capture of his prey. He wasn't perfect, but he wasn't a monster either. His beast was still very much within him, but he no longer saw it as a separate part of him to be locked away. It had been assimilated into him, always there, taking control when it needed to, but tempered by his rational mind. He felt whole, no longer at war with his nature and his primal side.

He was happy, or as happy as he could expect to be under the circumstances. He wasn't unhappy, and if there was a hole in his heart where Elena used to be, that was his burden to bear. All in all, though, he liked his life, and he hadn't wanted it to be upended.

Needless to say, he wasn't pleased to be disturbed by one of Klaus' minions, not only for the reminder of all he had sacrificed and lost, but also for the missive that he was to leave his cushy, peaceful existence and return to the States posthaste. He'd wanted to cut the messenger's head off and send it back to Klaus tied to a cinder block, postage due, but since the vamp-were hybrid promptly tore out his own heart and killed himself right in front of Damon, he was denied that pleasure.

He didn't ignore the summons, but he did take his time in responding. He took a few days to settle his affairs in Italy and to say _arrivederci_ to his lovely signorinas who cried for losing him. He didn't want Klaus to think he was a dog who could be called to heel. In the meantime, he did wonder why Klaus wanted him. The last time Katherine had been to see him he'd noticed that she was under some strain, but he didn't ask her about it, and now he was kicking himself for not following his instincts. She'd said something about Stefan and Elena no longer being on vervain, and he hoped that didn't mean what he thought it did.

He wondered if it was about his killing Finn, but as far as he knew, he and Katherine were the only ones who knew he'd been Finn's killer since Gloria had allowed him to wipe that memory from her mind for her own protection. There had been no other witnesses, although he still didn't know how Sage had known he'd been the one, and he figured that if Klaus knew it was him, he would have been dead a long time ago.

He thought about a lot of things as he boarded a plane that would take him from Europe back to the States, and another that would take him from New York to Chicago. He mulled it over on the long flight between naps, reading, and flirting with the flight attendants in First Class, and he finally came to the conclusion that worrying about it was a complete waste of time. If Klaus wanted him dead, he'd be dead so it had to be something else, and that something else was probably what had been bothering Katherine back in April. If it was bothering Katherine, it most likely involved Stefan and Elena, and he had to be ready to face whatever it was that was going to be thrown at him.

When his plane set down in Chicago, he'd felt an odd sense that he'd come full circle, and it made him uncomfortable. He would always associate the city with the betrayal he had committed there, and he wondered if Klaus had chosen it to deliberately bring back bad memories. He'd been given the address of a house in Lake Forest, but he didn't go there straight away. He knew he'd be a fool to go into Klaus's den unprepared, so he dropped in on Gloria first, only to find her bar closed. That tripped off his alarms because he'd just spoken with her the previous week, and everything had seemed fine.

Dread settled into his stomach as he called her and got her voicemail, but his fears were somewhat alleviated by her message. During their time together, they had worked out a system of code words that would relay vital information within a seemingly bland and innocuous message, and her choice of words told him that she was safe but that there was danger. He remembered that there was a secret compartment in a cabinet behind the bar, so he went to it, tripping the hidden lever and sliding the back panel aside to reveal a lockbox. He pulled it out and placed it on the counter, wondering if it was spelled closed, but he felt the lock click free when he touched the latch so either it wasn't locked at all or it had been keyed to his touch. Either way, he was able to open the lid to reveal the box's contents.

His time with Gloria had made him as much of a warlock as he could be without actually being able to cast magic. Vampires _**could**_ use magic, but it was an uncertain thing because undead things using living energy often made the spells go awry. He could, however, mix non-magical potions, and he was a damn good herbalist. He even had a talent for gardening, although he'd gut anyone who'd say anything about it. He did have a reputation to protect, after all.

The box contained one of the sacred white oak stakes he'd given Gloria and a set of cloth pouches filled with herbs. He put the stake aside and examined the pouches, sniffing each one and trying to discern her message. Gloria never wrote anything down. Her letters were written in scent and signs, language another witch would speak… or a witch-savvy vampire. Her herbs would brew two potions – the super charged vervain and another potion meant to keep a clear head and focus the mind, it also somewhat dulled the senses – the sense of smell in particular. She was telling him that he needed to protect himself from compulsion, keep his head on straight, and keep his nose in check. Something was going to trigger his basal instincts, and she was warning him to be ready.

He took her message to heart and brewed both potions. While he was waiting for them to cool, he took off his No Mojo necklace and dipped it into the super-charged vervain. He wasn't relishing what he was about to do, but he didn't want anyone to be able to rip it off his neck. He took a sharp knife, gritted his teeth, and sliced a deep lateral wound in his left pectoral muscle large enough to create a pocket to slip the talisman underneath his flesh. His skin would heal over the pendant, but the vervain would prevent his body from expulsing it. It would sting and burn until he cut it out, but at least he knew he would remain protected from magical influence. When the wound was deep enough, he took the talisman off the chain and used a pair of small ice tongs to shove the black stone underneath his muscle, grunting as it stung and burned and gripping the edge of the bar to fight off the pain until his skin healed over.

When the potions were ready, he drank a thimble-full of the vervain, gagging and choking as it went down, and chased it with a full measure of the other. He didn't like the feeling of having his senses dulled, but he trusted Gloria. He poured some of the super-charged vervain into vials he found under the bar countertop and tucked them into his jacket, but he left the stake in the box as he packed everything up and stored it back in the hidden compartment. He locked the bar behind him as he headed back out to his rental car and drove to the address he'd been given.

The house was a typical Nuevo-riche mansion probably built in the boom years of the eighties, and the security gate closed behind him as he drove up the circular driveway and parked in front of the Georgian columned façade. Elijah opened the door when he rang the bell, and he gave the Original a jaunty smile.

"I'm here," he said.

"I can see that," Elijah replied in his usual cool voice, but there was something in his demeanor that tripped off red sirens in Damon's head.

He tamped it down, resisting the urge to rub the spot on his chest that itched and burned from the talisman under his skin, and stepped into the grand entry.

"My brother and I had a bet on when you would arrive. He thought you would come running as soon as you could, but I believed you would take your time responding," Elijah said, leading the way across the marbled foyer and through a set of open double doors.

"So which of you won and do I get a cut?" he asked with a smirk, using snark to hide his growing agitation.

"I did, and I'll consider it."

They walked into a large sitting room where several people were waiting. He noted Klaus and several of his hybrids. Lockwood was there standing next to Blondie whose eyes lit up when he entered the room, but he saw her quickly lower her gaze. Rebekah was sitting on a high-backed couch with her hand resting possessively on his brother's thigh as Stefan sat uncomfortably next to her. Stefan and he met eyes, seeing each other for the first time since that fateful night, and the emotions that ripped through him were nearly overwhelming. He was glad for Gloria's potion and warning, because he really was almost swept away. The expression in Stefan's eyes showed that he wasn't much better off.

There was another person in the room, one he needed to look at, but he couldn't until he had locked himself down. After several moments, he turned his attention to the woman sitting in the Queen Anne chair next to the couch. She was older, more mature. Her body had filled out, and she'd cut her hair to about shoulder-legnth, but she was still the same. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest, and her name was a prayer on his lips, when he caught a whiff of her scent.

His senses and primal instincts came shrieking to the fore, and his whole body went rigid. There was no mistaking that smell, and she even had the temerity to look guilty as her hand came up to protectively lay on her lower abdomen. His eyes went red, and his fangs came down, and he was at her side in an instant – not to threaten her, but to warn away any rival males who would dare to get too close. The hybrids scattered, and even his brother gave him a wide-eyed, wary look. He locked gazes with Stefan and growled possessively. If his brother had had _**anything**_ to do with this…

Damon rounded on Klaus, furious and ready to fight to the death. "What have you done!" he demanded.

The Original flashed him a cocky grin and sauntered over to him even as Damon stepped forward to block his path to Elena.

"Now, now, mate, I think it's obvious what I've done," Klaus answered with a smirk and a gloating look in his eyes. "I decided that it was time for my doppelganger to continue the Petrova line, thus insuring that there will be another doppelganger in a few generations for me to use to make more hybrids."


	2. Chapter 2

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

Disclaimer: All rights to _The Vampire Diaries_ belong to Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, L.J. Smith and the CW. I just take them out and play with them. No money, no infringement intended, yadda yadda yadda. I'm poor so don't sue.

* * *

Chapter Two

Damon didn't think he could get any angrier. How dare that bastard use Elena as a broodmare to breed more doppelgangers! He wanted to rip the Original's head off and send it flying through the window. He wanted to find the man who had fathered the child and disembowel him…

"Damon."

Her voice. He hadn't heard it in six years, but it cut through his rage like a ray of sunlight after a vicious storm. His vision cleared, and he felt the veins around his eyes fade as he looked at her with his human face. He hadn't even noticed that he'd put his hand on her shoulder at some point, but there it was, and he watched as she lifted one of her hands and placed it gently over the top of his. Her touch surged through him like an electric current and every nerve in his body focused on that one spot where they had made physical contact.

"Well, at least we know the little witch was right," Rebekah's voice said. "He seems to be able to stand her smell."

He broke eye contact with Elena to look at Klaus's sister. He was pretty sure she had spoken English, but his brain was having difficulty processing her words. She saw him staring at her and shrugged.

"Nick's had to compel just about all of them not to rip her heart out," she commented. "The scent's intensified. It's something about her being a doppelganger."

Breeding females always attracted predators, and vampires were no different. The scent of a pregnant woman could send a vampire into a frenzy of bloodlust, and from the look on Stefan's face, his brother was no exception. Oddly, Elena's scent wasn't triggering his prey drive. Quite the opposite. It was flipping every protective switch he had, urging him to claim her and keep her safe. In fact, he was desperately fighting the urge not to slaughter every male within fifteen feet of her, even his own brother.

Stefan looked at him, and he saw his eyes begin to go red. He felt his own beast rising to the challenge as his fangs came down again, and a low growl escaped his throat. Stefan stood up and started to get into his face, but Klaus intervened.

"Now, now, mate. We discussed this. He's passed the test. She'll go with him," Damon heard the Original tell Stefan. His brother looked like he was going to argue when Klaus added, "For her own _**protection**_. We don't want what happened with Thomas to happen again, do we?"

He watched Stefan stare into Klaus's eyes and knew his brother was being compelled again. He tried not to be too disappointed by it.

"No," Stefan agreed, lowering his gaze and stepping back.

Klaus clapped his hands together and smiled. "Well, now that that's settled, Elena, be a dear and go pack your things."

Damon was shocked as Elena obeyed immediately and rose to her feet, turning to face the doorway to the hall. He almost stopped her because he didn't want her to leave his sight, but she looked up at him with her brown eyes pleading with him to not cause trouble, and he stayed his hand.

"You could even have your friend help you," Klaus added, nodding to Caroline. "Or perhaps you'd like to take her with you. You are such good chums after all."

"_**No!"**_ Rebekah yelled, jumping to her feet, her fists clenched in anger. "Caroline is _**mine**_, Nick. That ugly little doppelganger bitch can't have her!"

He bristled at the blonde calling Elena an ugly bitch, but he held his tongue because he'd already figured out that this little spectacle was a test, and he was going to make sure he passed it. From what he could determine, Klaus was giving him Elena, and he wasn't going to do anything to fuck that up.

"Well, why don't we leave that up to Caroline, dear sister? Caroline, would you like to accompany your friend on her journey?" Klaus asked.

Damon gritted his teeth as he watched Blondie struggle with a choice she knew she had no say in. He could tell that she was desperate to get away, but knew she was as trapped as the rest of them in Klaus's snare. They all waited for her reply, and several tense moments later she took a deep breath and dropped her eyes to the floor.

"My place is by my mistress's side," she replied, and it almost made Damon vomit.

Rebekah gloated, smiling. "See? She doesn't want to leave me."

"Very well, Caroline, since you desire so much to stay with my sister, I'll grant your wish, but you can still help Elena pack. Hurry now, don't dawdle. I am sure our guest is eager to take his charge and go," Klaus said.

Caroline nodded and hurried to stand next to Elena, taking Elena's hand in hers, then they left the room together, but not before Blondie cast him a pleading glance as she passed him. He pursed his lips and frowned, but said nothing.

"I'm glad this is looking like it's going to work out," Klaus commented.

"I'm guessing you've had some trouble," he said, stating the obvious.

"You have no idea. I've killed more of my hybrids in the last month for going after my doppelganger than I have in the last six years combined."

The fact that Klaus referred to Elena as "his" doppelganger rubbed him the wrong way, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Now was not the time to be poking the tiger with a stick. He had to get Elena and get out of there as soon as possible.

"That's the problem with the young ones. No control," he stated, pretending to be bored. "Things began to go south once she entered the second trimester?"

Once a woman was a few months along, that was when the scent really began to get strong. Elena wasn't showing yet, so she couldn't be much farther than four months pregnant.

"Right around twelve weeks, like clockwork," Rebekah answered. "She's reeked ever since, and the boys just can't seem to control themselves."

He saw her cast a sly glance at Stefan, and his brother looked pained. There was a lot more to the story than what he was being told. He wanted to get his brother alone so he could get the truth out of him, violently if necessary, but he knew his chances of doing that were slim.

"I see. And when is the bouncing bundle of joy due?"

"December 8th, give or take a week or two," Klaus replied.

"Sagittarius. Perfect."

"I have enough of her blood reserved to last me until then. I've been advised against taking any more until after the child is born," Klaus told him.

"Longer than that. She'll be nursing," he countered, then his eyes opened wide. "Unless you intend to take the baby from her…"

If that was Klaus's plan, then he had five months to find a way to kill that piece of shit dead without killing himself, because he'd be twice damned if he was going to let him take Elena's baby.

Klaus gave him one of his cold, superior grins. "Now, now, mate, what kind of a monster do you think I am? I wouldn't dream of separating a mother and her child. But you do raise a valid point. I suppose I shall have to be judicious with my supply then. That might not be such a bad thing. I might be better served if I was more selective about who I turned."

Klaus cast a sly glance towards Lockwood who scowled and stood up a little taller. The Original just chuckled.

"So what is it exactly that you want from me?" he asked.

"I thought that was obvious, mate."

"I'm not your mate," he snapped, becoming more and more agitated the longer Elena was out of his sight. His talisman was also still burning under his pect, and it was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"No, but I know who you want to be," Klaus said with a leer and a gloating look towards Stefan.

He glanced at his brother and saw him barely keeping a hold on himself. This whole set up was another of Klaus's twisted games meant to fuck with everyone's emotions, and he didn't like it one bit.

"You play this right, and you might just get your chance," Klaus teased.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Right."

Klaus shrugged. "Suit yourself. As for what I want from you. I want you to take my doppelganger and keep her and her unborn child safe until she gives birth."

"And after that?"

"That's undetermined. As I am sure you know, babies don't fare much better around vampires than breeding females," the Original answered.

The thought of feeding on an infant sickened him, but he knew children and babies were the preferred prey of some vampires. They certainly smelled delicious.

He didn't take Klaus's bait, but changed the subject instead. He'd gotten his answer anyway. He would have Elena for as long as Klaus allowed him to have her, or until he could find a way to drive the sacred white oak stake into Klaus's black heart without killing his whole bloodline. He planned to get to work on that as soon as possible.

"Who's the proud papa?" he questioned, glaring at Stefan.

"No one you know. I chose him from a list of carefully selected candidates based on their bloodlines. I'm crossing the Petrova line directly back in, in hopes of getting a new doppelganger within a century instead of having to wait five hundred years. Don't worry. I made sure she enjoyed it."

It took everything he had not to strike Klaus's smug smile right off his face, and Klaus knew it too because his smile only got smugger. Damon didn't budge, however. His days of lashing out in an uncontrolled frenzy were over, and he wasn't about to give Klaus a reason to change his mind.

"Why me?" he asked. "Why not send Elena off with him?" He indicated Elijah who was standing near the open doorway. "I would have thought he'd make a better babysitter."

"I admit to him being my first choice, but Elijah serves me better in other capacities, and I need his talents elsewhere."

It was a lie. Klaus had chosen him because of the global mind-fuck. It screwed with him, with Stefan and Elena, with Blondie and Mutt… Hell, it even screwed with Barbie Klaus and Elijah. Klaus was nothing if not an equal opportunity fucktard.

"Besides, it was put forth that you would be the better choice given your… history with Elena, and it was suggested that you would have better control over your instincts to kill her."

It was implied, but not directly stated that Stefan had _**not**_ had control around Elena, which came as no surprise since his baby bro and moderation seemed to be in separate universes from each other.

"That's me. Mr. Control," he said with a smirk.

"I know. I've been watching you these last six years. You've never crossed the line or made a spectacle of yourself. It's too bad you never taught your brother that. I've had to keep him on a short leash. He attracts far too much attention when I let him loose. It's a pity, really."

"Yeah, well, he was too busy tearing his victims apart to pay much attention to my brotherly advice."

Klaus laughed, but it cut like razor blades. He wanted out. He wanted out _**now**_. What the hell was taking Elena so long?

As if his thoughts had conjured her, Elena appeared in the doorway with Blondie beside her. She had the same black gym bag that he'd left with her six years ago, and his heart clenched at the sight of it. Blondie was carrying a larger suitcase on wheels. Both women looked stressed, but they were keeping it together.

"There you are, my dear," Klaus said, gesturing her closer.

Elena came in to the room and presented herself to Klaus, who put both hands on her shoulders.

'_Don't look him in the eye. Don't look him in the eye,'_ Damon silently pleaded, but it was for naught. Elena raised her gaze and looked directly at Klaus's face.

"Are you all packed and ready to go?" the Original asked.

"Yes," she answered.

"Excellent. You're going to go with Damon now. You be a good girl and listen to him. You do what he tells you to do."

'_**No!'**_ he wanted to cry.

"Yes, Klaus."

Damon's heart broke at the sound of her hollow voice, and he had to look away. His gaze found his brother's, and they shared a look of mutual anguish.

"That's my girl. Off you go then."

Klaus released Elena and gestured them to leave.

"Don't you want to know where I'm taking her?" Damon asked.

Klaus gave him another of his smug looks. "There's nowhere you could take her where I wouldn't be able to find her. You'd do well to remember that."

"Noted," he answered, then turned to Elena. "Did you want to say good-bye?"

She gave him a guarded look, but turned to face Elijah. "Good-bye. Thank you for everything."

Elijah's eyes flashed a moment of pain, and Damon knew that he was as unhappy with this game as Damon.

"It was my pleasure and honor, but I am sure I will see you soon."

Elijah looked at him for confirmation and he nodded.

Elena then turned to Stefan and took a few steps towards him, but Damon noticed that she stopped well away from him and that Rebekah looked ready to intervene. He realized that Elena's scent had had the opposite effect on Stefan. Whereas her smell had triggered his protective instincts, it had tripped his brother's prey drive into high gear, and probably the only thing keeping him from attacking her was Klaus's compulsion. Klaus _**had**_ to get Elena out or either Stefan or one of the hybrids would kill her.

Damon watched the two former lovers stare at each other, and he positioned himself just behind Elena's right shoulder, noting that Rebekah did the same for Stefan.

"I'll see you soon," Stefan promised.

'_And I'll gouge your eyes out first,'_ he silently replied, his territorial instincts prodding him to put down the threat to his female.

"You take good care of her," his brother warned, puffing out his chest in false bravado.

Damon smirked and lifted one eyebrow. "You know I will."

He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Elena's shoulder, hoping his touch would be well received. She didn't flinch, but turned towards him, allowing him to guide her from the room. He gave Klaus a nod as they passed and indicated to Blondie that she should follow with Elena's suitcase. No one ever called Liz Forbes' daughter stupid, and she fell dutifully in line.

He pulled out the keys to the rental car and pressed the button to pop the trunk, then he used the ruse of taking the suitcase from Blondie and packing it into the car to slip one of the containers of super-charged vervain into her bra as they both leaned over the lip of the trunk. He had to give her credit for not jumping when he dropped the little vial down her scoop neckline, and he saw her quickly "adjust" it out of sight. She gave him a look, he gave her a smirk, and she slapped him for good measure, but there was no anger behind it.

"Stop ogling my boobs, pervert. You had your chance, but you screwed me over," she hissed, but her while her mouth spewed invective, her eyes were grateful.

"Nice to see you again, too, Blondie. I see your disposition hasn't improved," he quipped.

"Ass."

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her, making her huff and stomp back towards the entry where Lockwood was glaring at him. He had no idea what they would do with the vervain, but he hoped they'd use it well. He held open the passenger door for Elena and shut it after she got in, then he went around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel.

Outwardly, he was calm, cool and collected. Inwardly, he wanted to throw the poor sedan into gear and spin tires as he got them the hell out of Dodge. He noticed his hands shaking a little as he turned the ignition.

"All buckled in?" he asked, glancing over to make sure her seatbelt was clipped.

"Yes."

"Perfect," he said with a forced smile and a wave to Klaus and his entourage who were watching from the grand entryway. Stefan looked like he was about to shit a brick.

He put the car in gear and headed for the gates that were slowly opening. He didn't know where they were headed, but he wanted to get out of the driveway A.S.A.P.

"What happened to the Camaro?" Elena asked, sounding more like herself than she had in the house, and he wondered how much of her hollow demeanor was an act.

"I put it in storage. Once we know where we're going, I'll make arrangements to have it shipped to me if we're going to be in the States," he answered. "Where are we going anyway? I've rented a villa on the Amalfi Coast in Italy through the end of August. I can extend the lease, and we could go there if you like. Lots of sun, warm days, clean air and good food."

Elena shook her head and crossed her arms protectively over her abdomen. "No. My baby's an American. I want her born on American soil."

"Her?" he prompted.

"I'm a doppelganger. All my children will be girls. Or at least, that's what Miriam told Klaus."

"Is Miriam Klaus's witch?" he asked. He didn't know Miriam, but he was willing to bet Gloria did. He'd have to call her soon to make sure she was okay.

She nodded. "One of them. He uses Gloria, too, but not as much anymore. Gloria disappeared for a while a couple of years back, and Klaus replaced her with Miriam."

"She was with me. I was taking her on a tour of the world."

"Ah."

He'd come to the end of the street, and he didn't know if he should turn right or left.

"So, m'lady, where to?"

She gave him a hopeful look, and she looked eighteen all over again. His heart skipped a beat or two at least.

"Can we… can we go home? Please, Damon. Would you take me home?"

"You want to go back to Mystic Falls?"

She nodded, then looked guilty and turned her eyes away. He ignored her discomfort and guided the car to the left.

"Mystic Falls it is then. Best get comfy. It's going to be a long drive."


	3. Chapter 3

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

Disclaimer: All rights to _The Vampire Diaries_ belong to Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, L.J. Smith and the CW. I just take them out and play with them. No money, no infringement intended, yadda yadda yadda. I'm poor so don't sue.

* * *

Chapter Three

He began to calm down some as they left the greater Chicago area, but that meant that the talisman still buried under his chest muscle began to bother him all the more. He'd been squelching the urge to dig it out with his bare fingers just to make the burning stop, but he was reaching the end of his tolerance. Besides, it was getting late, and Elena was looking a little wan. She'd been uncharacteristically quiet for the last hour, and he hadn't even wanted to play the radio for fear of disturbing her. They were about two hours out of Indianapolis, and he figured that was as good a place as any to stop for the night.

"I'd like to stop in Indianapolis if that's okay," he said. "It's late, and I've had a long day."

She glanced at him and did that thing where she pushed her hair behind her ear, and the simple movement entranced him. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her, but now that he was with her again, it was almost overwhelming. He was so grateful to Gloria for leaving him the herbs to dull his senses; otherwise he would have been lost in the glory of her scent alone. Even now, in the close confines of the car, he was being bathed in it, and he was almost euphoric. Yes, the smell of her pregnancy was very apparent, but it was pregnant _**Elena**_, and that made all the difference.

"Whatever you want is fine with me," she answered, and it wrenched him in the gut. Not because she agreed with him and wasn't arguing, but because Klaus had compelled her to obey him.

"Okay. Okay, we're not going to do this," he stated, spying a sign for a truck stop off I-65. He veered the car across three lanes of traffic to get on the exit ramp, ignoring the honking horns and Elena's gasp and grab for the "Oh shit" handle, and pulled the car into the parking lot.

"Look at me," he commanded as he threw the car into park and cut the engine.

She flinched but obeyed, her eyes worried and frightened, and he wanted to kick himself. He put his hand over her eyes to make damn sure he couldn't compel her by accident.

"You do _**not**_ have to obey me. Yes, if we're in a dire situation, and your safety is at risk, it would be very nice if you would do what I say. But here, like this, you don't have to blindly agree with me. That's not how we work. That's not how we've _**ever**_ worked, and I won't have it now."

He dug into his jacket and pulled out one of the remaining vials of super-charged vervain, unscrewing the cap as he lowered his hand from her face.

"Here. I know you can't drink it, but take a whiff of it. It might help break Klaus's hold on you."

He waved the open vial under her nose, but she shoved his hand away with violence, splashing the liquid on his hand and the seat. He hissed at the burning and reared back as the rest of it splattered on the cloth upholstery.

"No!" she cried, and then she started to gag.

He was trying to wipe the vervain off his smoldering skin as she was opening the car door and throwing herself out onto the asphalt.

"Elena!" he called, nearly ripping the driver's side door from its hinges as he raced to her side.

She was on her knees, retching, her body heaving with each spasm. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close even as she began to vomit.

"Shh. Shhh. Easy, easy," he cooed, rocking with her as he held back her hair while she threw up. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Klaus…" she gasped between heaves. "I can't… I can't even _**smell**_ vervain."

"He compelled you to reject it. I understand," he answered, holding her and wishing he'd thought of that beforehand.

He pressed his cheek to her head and stroked her hair, trying to still her tremors. She heaved again and spit up stomach acid and bile on the pavement, and he just wanted to gut himself for being so stupid.

"Everything okay here, man?" a strange voice asked, and he looked up to see a couple of beer-bellied truckers looking at them. His first instinct was to rip out both of their throats and play jump rope with their entrails, but he figured that would only make Elena puke more.

"Yeah, we're fine," he assured them even as Elena began another set of dry heaves.

"Morning sickness!" she gasped out, spitting on the ground.

"Awwww, man," one of the men said. "My old lady puked up her guts every day when we was having our four."

"Oh, wow, _**honey**_, just think of all the _**fun**_ we have to look forward to," he teased, flashing her a strained grin.

"You should get her some ginger ale. Always worked for my wife," the second man offered helpfully.

Elena gave him a look that told him that he if he didn't get rid of the truckers himself in the next ten seconds, she was going to go all Hormonal Pregnant Bitch on them. He almost let her do it because he half wanted to see her in action again. She was always sexiest when she was showing off her female power. He decided against it, however, when she gave him the Death Glare, and he felt his balls shriveling up just from her stare.

It took quite a bit of talent to compel more than one person at once, but he'd been honing his technique ever since Bill Forbes called him lazy, and once he'd had both of their attentions, it was easy enough to send them on their way. Once they were gone, he helped her to her feet and walked with her to the truck stop building.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, still clearing her throat. "Yeah. I just need to go to the ladies' room."

"Okay."

He stayed with her until she left his arms to slip into the bathroom, and he kept one ear on her as he went over to the soda cases and found ginger ale. The trucker was right. Ginger settled the stomach, as did peppermint, so he asked the woman at the sandwich counter if they had any mint leaves for the iced tea. They did, so she gave him a handful. They were wilted and old, but better than nothing. As soon as they were settled for the night, he'd find an open grocery store and get fresh ingredients for a peppermint-ginger tea. As for her compulsion to reject vervain… well, there were other herbs that could be used to do the same thing, but they took longer. He knew a few recipes, so he'd get to work on that when they got to Mystic Falls.

He was so attuned to Elena that he could pick out her movements in the tiled restroom from the other side of the truck stop, so he heard her when she was rinsing out her mouth and spitting into the bathroom sink. He finished up with buying the soda and was waiting for her when she came out of the restroom. He offered her the bottle of ginger ale with a soft smile, and she gave him a grateful nod as she accepted it.

"Thanks," she whispered, and came close, pressing her shoulder into his side as he put an arm around her. Six years ago she would barely have touched him, but now she seemed to gravitate towards him. Not that he minded in the least, but he wasn't used to her seeking out contact from him.

"You're welcome. Do you get morning sicknesss?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sometimes. Caroline usually compels it away, though," she answered.

He frowned. For a woman who was almost pathologically judgmental about vampires messing with people's heads, she'd done a remarkable one-eight about the subject. He weighed the pros and cons of pointing that out and decided that the cons far outweighed them so he kept his mouth shut.

"I can do that, too… if the tea I know how to make doesn't help," he said.

"I used to have a tea, but I ran out, and Klaus didn't get me more. I think… I think he was waiting to see if you'd show up."

He snorted. "He knew I would come. I would've come sooner if he'd bothered to give me any details about what was going on."

She shrugged. "You know him. He loves fucking with people's emotions. He's been around so long, I think making us all dance to his tune is the only thing that keeps him from killing himself out of boredom."

He laughed and pulled her a bit closer as they exited the truck stop and got back into the car.

"I'm sorry. I didn't ask if you were hungry," he said, looking at her as she clicked on her seat belt. "I figured eating would be the last thing on your mind after puking your guts up like that."

"Yeah," she agreed, but waved the bottle of ginger ale at him. "But this'll have me having to pee again in about a half hour."

"Mmmmm," he said and fished the zip-lock baggie of mint leaves out of his jacket. "Here, put one of the leaves on your tongue if you start to get nauseous again. Should help."

She accepted the bag. "Thanks. I'm good for now, though."

He nodded, started the car and drove them back to the interstate.

The atmosphere in the car was more comfortable, more relaxed after their stop, and he even turned on the XM radio to a soft rock station. He wished he'd taken the time to dig the talisman out of his chest while they were at the truck stop, but he could tolerate it until they got to Indianapolis.

"You rented a house in Italy?" she asked him, after a few moments.

"Yeah, in Praiano. It's about an hour away from Naples. It was on the coast right off the Via Roma. I had a perfect view of the Mediterranean," he replied.

She gave him a wistful smile. "It sounds wonderful."

"We could go there, y'know. If you wanted. There's plenty of time to come back before the baby is born. You still have another five months to go," he offered. "Just think, morning coffee looking out over the water. Warm, sunny days. The house came with a staff, and the housekeeper and cook is an old matron named Francesca. She would take one look at you and spoil you rotten."

Elena chuckled, and her eyes lit up a little. She really had matured into a beautiful woman. Gone was the lanky, half-grown teen. Now she was curvy in all the right places, and her face had lost its sharp angles.

"I don't speak Italian," she answered.

"Oh, that's okay. I'm fluent. I could be your translator."

"So you can tell her where we keep the sexual torture devices and warn her to always separate the drugs?"

He laughed, remembering a time during their last summer together when she had been missing Stefan and moping, and he'd attempted to cheer her up with ice cream and an 80's movie marathon. _The Goonies_ had been a favorite.

"That was Spanish, not Italian, but I get your point. So? Am I taking us to the Indianapolis airport or are we headed to Mystic Falls?"

He saw her think about it, but she eventually shook her head. "No. I want to go home. I… I need to be home for this."

He wanted to tell her that if she was looking for someplace where she belonged, Mystic Falls wasn't it anymore. Nearly everyone she knew had moved away, including Ric and her brother, and he had seen how the town had changed when he'd made a visit after buying the Gilbert house. He wondered if she knew he'd done that, and he figured he'd find out soon enough.

"Okay."

"But thank you. I would like to go to Italy someday. Maybe… maybe after the baby is old enough to travel?"

"Anytime. I'm a sucker for White Nights and Italian wine."

She snickered and rested her head against the back of the seat, a little frown on her lips.

"You okay?" he asked, picking up on her mood change. Hormones would make her unpredictable… or more unpredictable than she usually was when she was with him.

"Gotta pee."

"I'll get off at the next exit that has a gas station."

"You might just want to get me a bucket. We may get to Mystic Falls before next week that way," she joked weakly.

"Pffft, you women. At least guys can piss standing up."

She laughed out loud and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Don't do that. My bladder control is spotty as it is these days."

He chuckled, then grew serious as he saw her put her hand over her stomach.

"Who's the father?" he questioned as gently as possible.

Her smile faded, and she turned her head to stare out the windshield.

"Some man Klaus brought over from Bulgaria. He didn't speak a word of English. I remember that it happened, but I don't remember any of the details. Klaus spared me that."

He gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried not to spew the string of obscenities that wanted so desperately to come out of his mouth. "I would have done my best to stop it," was all he managed to push from between his clenched teeth.

"You think we didn't try? Stefan tried. Caroline tried. One of my friends among the hybrids… Klaus _**killed**_ her for trying. Hell, even _**Rebekah**_ tried. But he'd made up his mind, and there was no changing it. There was nothing anyone could do. If you'd been there, he would have just killed you to get you out of the way," she argued, her voice growing more and more agitated.

"He planned and arranged for you to be raped and have your rapist's child. I won't forgive that," he growled.

"I can't think of it that way. No, I didn't want this. Sergei didn't either. But neither of us had a choice. What I did want was to be a mom, and I think I helped Klaus make the decision to do this when I confided in Samantha that I was starting to hear my biological clock ticking when I turned 24. I think I planted the seed…"

"_**No!**_ Don't you _**dare**_ think this was your fault!" he snapped.

"I'm not! I know it wasn't my fault, Damon. I know that. But I can't change what happened, and I refuse to allow myself to hate my baby for something she had no say in either."

He growled again, but said nothing.

"Look. All I can do is try to make the best of this. I'm pregnant. Hopefully in five months or so, I'll give birth to a healthy baby girl. Right now, I'm away from the vampire who used me, abused me, and made me his personal blood bag. I'm going home to Mystic Falls with a vampire whom I trust above all others, even Elijah. I am trying to be positive about all of this because there's a lot of potential good here, and I want it to all work out."

He was silent for a few moments, then he whispered, "You trust me above all others?"

"Yes."

"You shouldn't. I betrayed you. I left you with Klaus," he reminded her, feeling the crush of guilt as if it were just yesterday and not six years ago.

"Yes, you did, but it was your only option. I wasn't ready to listen to you about Stefan. If you hadn't left me with Klaus, all of you would have been killed. Once he'd found out I was alive, he would have killed everyone in his way. You. Jeremy. Ric. Caroline… No. You made the right choice. It took me years to understand that, to understand the courage it took for you to do what you did."

"It wasn't courage. It was self-preservation," he reminded her, shocked by her forgiveness. He didn't deserve it, even though he desperately needed it.

"You keep telling yourself that, but I know different. You had to get yourself furious with me enough to leave me there. You pushed all my buttons so I'd push back. You had to work yourself up to it. Stefan told me how you'd take on his pain; how you'd take your father's whippings so he wouldn't be the one who was whipped. How you protected him even if it meant you'd take the blame or suffer for it. You did the same with me. You always made the hard decisions even if it meant you'd be diminished in my eyes. You let me hate you because it saved my life."

"Don't make me out to be good, Elena. I'm not good, and I don't want to live up to anyone's expectations."

Her hand reached over and rested gently on his arm. "You don't have to be good, Damon. You just have to be you."

At that point, he was really, really wondering how much of the shit she was spewing was genuine and how much of it was compulsion. He wouldn't know until he could break Klaus's hold on her, and he half dreaded what she would think about him then.

"There's something I have to tell you," she began, and then she waited for him to look at her so she knew that she had his attention.

"Yeah?"

He saw her swallow hard and look at the hand she had on his arm.

"Bonnie's dead."

The words were a kick in the gut because she looked so broken when she said them, and he had no words to comfort her. The last time Bonnie had been "dead" he'd known it was a ruse to fool Klaus. Now he had no such revelation for her.

"I know," he said with a defeated sigh.

"It's my fault."

"Like _**hell**_ it was! I _**warned**_ them! I told them not to go after you. They were stupid enough to ignore me – as usual – and Witchy got herself killed. That is _**not**_ your fault!"

"_**But it is! **_You don't understand, Damon. They'd rescued me! They'd succeeded, but I insisted on going back for Stefan. I wouldn't leave Stefan!" she cried, her voice breaking at the end.

Well, of course she wouldn't. She'd crawl after her Epic Love broken and bleeding, even if he'd been the one who had disemboweled her.

"It was Stefan who… who…"

She broke down into gut-wrenching sobs, and he knew the end of that story. Stefan had sided with Klaus and handed the little rescue party over to his master. He pulled off the highway to go to a gas station with a public restroom, and he reached for her after he'd parked the car. She turned towards him and buried her face in his shoulder, fisting her hands into his leather jacket.

"Shhh. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he apologized, not sure exactly what he was begging forgiveness for, or if he was just begging for all of it. "He was compelled, Elena. Klaus was controlling him…"

She pulled away, sniffling and shaking her head. "No. I've been compelled lots in the last six years, and I've seen Stefan compelled. He didn't have to hand them over to Klaus. That wasn't part of the compulsion. He did it because he wanted to. Half of what Stefan did, he did of his own free will."

He looked into her teary, red eyes and set his jaw. He knew that, but then he also knew his brother, and knew he had a cruelty inside him that Damon had never embraced. He didn't answer as he wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

"There's a rumor that you're the one who killed Finn," she said in a harsh whisper, as if she was afraid the car was bugged. "Is it true?"

He winced and tried to find a way to skirt the issue without lying. She'd been through so much that he didn't want to add his dishonesty to the mountain of sins that had been committed against her. "You can't believe everything you hear, Elena."

"I know you were in Seattle the night Finn was killed, Damon."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes. I was in Seattle. I met a vampire I knew in the early 1900's. Her name was Sage. We were lovers back then, and she showed me how to be a vampire. She was turned by Finn. When she came to see me, she'd brought another vampire with her – one _**she'd**_ turned. They both dropped dead right in front of me without any warning. I called Gloria, and she was the one who told me that vampires who were related to Finn were dropping dead all over the world." There. He'd told the 100-percent truth without revealing all of his involvement in that situation.

"We heard. Kill an Original, and all the vampires connected to his line die, too. Klaus was ecstatic for weeks because he knew he was the father of your line."

He frowned and clenched his jaw. "So I've heard."

He didn't want to talk about this. She'd been compelled. Who knew how many layers of suggestion were on her? Klaus may have planned all of this in hopes of getting him to admit he was the one who had killed Finn and reveal the existence of the white oak stakes. As much as he wanted to trust Elena, he knew that he couldn't, not until he knew her mind was her own, and even then there were things he wouldn't tell her because not knowing kept her safe.

"You said you had to pee. This gas station has a public restroom," he told her, changing the subject.

She sniffled and nodded, pulling back. "Yeah. Thanks. I'm sorry for blubbering all over you. Hormones and all…"

"No problem," he said as he boldly hooked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "You cut your hair."

"Yeah. A while ago. I donated twelve inches to Locks of Love. It's growing out now."

He smiled. Even a prisoner to her worst enemy, and used as a hybrid-making blood bag, she still managed to give back to the world in whatever way she could. Gods, he loved her so much…

"You hungry? This place has a sandwich counter."

She frowned. "Ummm, I should be, but I'm not. I could wait a while longer."

"Still a bit queasy?"

"No. The ginger ale helped a lot with that. Thanks."

"Well, we're about an hour out of Indianapolis. There'll be lots of places open late as we get closer. We can find a decent diner, and get you some soup or whatever you think you can keep down."

She agreed. "I'm usually pretty good once I've been up for a while. It's when I first wake up, or if I've been lying down, that I tend to have problems. I should be fine."

"Okay."

"I'll be right back," she promised, and he knew she was telling the truth. Pre-compelled Elena might have tried to run away, but this one wouldn't.

But that didn't mean he was letting her out of his sight one second more than was absolutely necessary.

"I'll come in with you and get more ginger ale just in case."

"Okay. I prefer the Canada Dry brand if they have it."

"Noted," he replied as they got out of the car.

She snickered as she fell in beside him, as natural as could be, and he wanted to so desperately for it to be real.

'_If I break the compulsion, will you choose me? Will you run screaming? Or will you stay and tolerate a vampire you hate because you hate the vampire you left more?'_

"You always say that?" she commented fondly.

"Say what?"

"Noted or duly noted," she answered, imitating his voice. It wasn't a bad impression either.

He shrugged. "Habit I guess. It's easier than saying Yes, m'lady, I hear and understand you, or if we were in Southern California, I could say…" He adopted the tell-tale accent of a Valley Guy. "That's so _**righteous, dude!**_"

She burst out laughing and hit him again even as he snickered and mock pushed her away. "I _**told**_ you not to make me laugh!"

With the easy banter between the two of them, Damon felt a semblance of happiness that he hadn't felt in over six years, and he wondered how long it would last.


	4. Chapter 4

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

Disclaimer: All rights to _The Vampire Diaries_ belong to Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, L.J. Smith and the CW. I just take them out and play with them. No money, no infringement intended, yadda yadda yadda. I'm poor so don't sue.

A/N: Sorry for not replying to the reviews for Ch 3. I am traveling (again) and won't be home until Friday, Nov 16. Things were crazy nuts before the election and after, and I've been in New Orleans (how's THAT for irony given the spoilers for 04x08, wish I knew where they had been filming. ;D) since Nov 9. I'll try to reply to all the reviews this time around. Be safe all, and thanks!

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Chapter Four

After their pit stop, they got back on the road and drove towards Indianapolis until Damon saw signs for a diner he knew had a reputation for serving good food. They stopped for a meal, and he took the time to observe Elena in an attempt to figure out how much of her was still being let out. He knew there were moments of rebellion in every compulsion, wiggle-room if one wanted to call it that, and he watched for a telltale flash in her eyes or an unexpected expression on her face. Every little "tell" would help him piece it all together, and give him a clearer picture of what he was dealing with.

It was obvious to him that Elena's behavior wasn't normal. He knew he hadn't seen her in six years, and she had gone through quite a bit of growing-up, but there was no way Elena Gilbert would ever have forgiven him so easily after what he'd done to her, and even if she had found it in her heart to forgive him, there's no way she would have run to him with open arms. The only logical conclusion for her behavior was that she had been compelled to be pliant and obedient, and that was probably just for starters. What else she had been compelled to do or say would no doubt be revealed, but he wanted to be sure he was ready for it when it happened, otherwise he'd be completely mind-fucked instead of only half mind-fucked like he was now.

During their meal, he kept subtly testing the boundaries, trying to see if he could trigger a reaction from her. He flirted with the waitress. He made thinly veiled double-entendre comments. He verbally bashed on his brother. But nothing he did seemed to light the Petrova fire, and he knew he was going to have to break out the big guns and really push if he was going to have any chance of getting through. He wasn't going to do it until they were back in Mystic Falls, however. He'd play nice for the next day, then really get to work once they were on familiar turf.

After dinner, he looked for a place for them to stop for the night, and they ended up getting a double Queen room at a midrange hotel on the east side of Indianapolis. By that time, the stress he was under from trying to dance across the minefield Klaus had laid out for him in Elena Gilbert's head, trying to figure out what he was going to do with a pregnant human who was also a trouble magnet, and trying to find a way to get rid of Klaus, had him reaching his limits of tolerance. The talisman under his skin was burning, and he was going to rip his chest open with the plastic flatware provided by the hotel if he didn't get it out soon.

He'd stopped to get bourbon from a late night liquor store and sequestered himself in the bathroom shortly after they'd settled in the room. So far Elena seemed to be keeping her dinner down, so he felt comfortable leaving her by herself for the time it took him to cut the pendant out of his chest, and she certainly wasn't going anywhere. Old Elena would have waited until he went into the bathroom before wedging the door shut with the desk chair, scampering out of the room, and carjacking some poor slob who was dumb enough to fall for her doe-eyed look. This Elena… he gave her three minutes before she'd start tapping on the bathroom door wondering what was taking him so long.

He was proud of her. She actually lasted almost four minutes before he heard her quietly approaching the closed bathroom door.

"Damon?"

Her voice was uncertain, not something he was used to, but since he was trying very hard not to scream as he sliced open his own flesh with a switchblade, his response options were limited.

"Yeah?" he managed to reply through gritted teeth.

"Everything okay?"

"Just peachy. Be out in a sec…"

He grunted as he dug deep enough with the knife to cut the festering pocket that had formed around the onyx pendant. Blood gushed out of the wound, spilling on the fake marble vanity top and all over the floor, and the pain made him see stars. Unfortunately, trying to dig out the crystal with the blade was only pushing it deeper into his muscle. He tried to grab it with two fingers, but the vervain on and around the stone seared his flesh, and he couldn't hold in the cry of pain.

"Damon? Damon?" she called again, rapping on the bathroom door. "Damon, what's wrong?"

He was just about to tell her to take a beat, that he was fine, when he had a flash of inspiration. Pushing her buttons might not work, but maybe pushing the envelope another way might. He reached out with a bloody hand and unlocked the bathroom door, allowing her in. She opened the door immediately and took in the carnage that was his chest with wide eyes.

"Oh my God!"

"It looks worse than it is," he assured her, so, so proud of her that the blood splattered all over the sink and floor didn't seem to phase her one bit. This was his Warrior Princess. She was still in there, even if Klaus had bound her up in mental duct tape and tossed her into the dungeon.

'_How do you know?'_ his mental voice asked.

Maybe it was because he was in so much pain. Maybe it was because he was already at the end of his rope, and they hadn't even gotten back to Mystic Falls yet. Maybe it was because the innocent, hopeless romantic in him wanted so badly to have something real with this woman (yes, _**woman**_) he loved so much that he was still willing to believe that they might have a chance to ride off into the sunset together. Maybe he was just delusional. But for a moment, just a moment, he looked into her worried, brown eyes and believed for a second that she was being genuine.

His soul wept.

"What happened?" she asked, focusing on the bleeding wound in his chest.

"I put my No Mojo necklace in my chest as a precaution so no one could swipe it off me."

"No Mojo necklace?" she repeated, her brow furrowed with lines of confusion.

"Yeah. It's a talisman that protects me from magic. I didn't want it to get ripped off my neck, so I put it in there, but now I'm having a bit of trouble getting it out because it's soaked in vervain, and that kinda burns. Trying to dig it out with a knife is only pushing it further in. A little help?" he asked, giving her a tight smile.

"You soaked it in vervain?" she said, her brow creasing even more.

"Vamp healing powers would have pushed it out otherwise."

He saw her swallow and process what she was being told, then he saw her put on her game face as she straightened up a bit and stopped looking so gob-smacked.

"Okay, what do you need me to do?" Her voice was firm, down to business, and he knew he'd reached her on some level.

'_That's my girl. Hello, Elena.'_

He put the knife down on the sink counter and used both hands to pull open the sides of the wound to give her access.

"It's a black onyx crystal about two inches long. Can you dig it out?" he asked.

He had to give her credit. She only hesitated a moment before she took one hand and slipped her narrow finger right into the gaping hole, feeling around for the crystal and getting behind it to pry it out. He did his best to stay still and quiet as he felt her fishing around inside his muscle, and he let out a sigh as she got a hold of it and pulled it free. More blood poured out in the pendant's wake, but the stone was finally out. Elena dropped the black onyx into the sink and turned on the water to rinse it off.

"Thanks," he said, letting his skin go so it could heal. Without the vervain in the wound, it would now close over fairly quickly.

"You're welcome," she whispered, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before lowering.

The air between them became charged, and he realized that they were standing just inches apart in the tiny bathroom. He was shirtless. They were both smeared with blood. And the joy was bubbling up inside him. She was there with him. They were together again despite all odds.

He wanted to take her face in his hands and kiss her. He wanted to weep. He wanted to drop down to his knees and beg her forgiveness and declare his undying love and fealty. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and press his cheek to her swelling abdomen. But he did none of those things. Instead he watched, struck mute and paralyzed, as she took one of the white washcloths and wet it in the sink. Then she began wiping the blood from his chest with gentle strokes, cleaning him. He allowed her to do it for a few moments before he carefully took her wrist in his hand. She paused and tentatively raised her eyes to meet his.

Time stopped as they stared at each other. She'd even ceased to breathe as they fell into each other's gaze. Dumbstruck, he watched her focus on his lips even as she licked her own, and his body responded. The blood, the stress, her nearness, her scent- he was dancing on the edge of the razorblade, trying not to get cut, but he was about to lose his balance.

Then the smell of her arousal wafted into his nose, and he knew he had to do something fast or he was going to lose his mind. Without a word, he gently lifted the wet rag from her fingers and set it down on the sink. Her breath hitched as he leaned close, and her heart started to pound.

"Let me take a shower," he whispered hoarsely, hardly recognizing his own voice.

With that the spell was broken, and she blinked, coming back to herself. He saw her shake her head a bit, and he suppressed a smile, even as her withdrawal pained him.

"Um… umm… yeah. Yeah, okay. That's a good idea," she agreed and quickly retreated, closing the bathroom door behind her.

He took a few moments to clear his head of the lust her arousal had triggered before turning on the shower and stepping under the spray. As he scrubbed himself clean of the blood and the layer of travel grime he had accrued since he'd left Italy that morning, he incorporated the next piece in the Elena-compulsion puzzle into his steadily coalescing picture.

Sex.

How much of it was real? How much of it was more of Klaus mind-fucking him? How much of it was pregnant female hormones? How much of it was her coming into her own sexuality as a woman and realizing that he was an available, attractive male? How much of it was her finally acting on her feelings for him?

He could deal with hateful Elena and angry Elena. He could handle obedient Elena and compliant Elena. He could even handle moody, pregnant Elena. But could he handle Fuck Me Elena? If she came on to him, offering him everything that six years ago he would have given his right arm, an eye and his soul to have, could he be strong enough to resist? If she stood before him, smelling of want and warm, Elena scent, batted her eyelashes at him and touched him in ways he'd only reserved for fantasies on cold, lonely nights, could he find it in himself to say no?

Who the hell was he kidding? His control was legendary except for when it came to the women he loved. Then he became a spineless pansy gobbling up the crumbs that were tossed to him. He had no doubts that if she decided to come into the bathroom, strip and join him in the shower, he'd have her up against the tile wall, on the sink counter, on the floor, on the cheap carpet, and on the bed over and over again. He'd bury himself in her scent and her body and scream 'fuck it all' to Klaus, his brother, the world, and every sick-fucked up god in the universe who thought it was fun to mess with his head.

And when it was over, when this passion play, or Greek tragedy, or whatever the fuck it was, had reached its logical, inevitable conclusion, and she came out of her compulsion and hated him for giving in to her advances, he would bow his head and accept the blame. He'd hand her the whip and let her punish him. He'd take the responsibility for not being strong enough to save her from herself, and he'd do her penance for her.

Because that's what he did. He ate the sins of the ones he loved so they wouldn't have to.

He finished his shower by turning the knob to cold and letting the frigid water bring him back to his senses. He decided that, while he might not be able to resist her forever, he was going to give it his best try. He was going to muster every bit of resolve and strength he had to see this through and be strong enough for both of them. He had to. She was compelled, and she needed him to look out for her.

He dried off and put his jeans back on, but he left off his shirt because he wanted to get a clean one from his bag. He retrieved the chain for his No Mojo necklace from his pocket and restrung the pendant on it before slipping it over his head again. Its familiar weight was a comfort to him, and he rubbed his thumb over the faceted, black surface as he opened the door.

Elena was sitting on one of the beds when he came out of the bathroom, and she reminded him of a marionette who only came alive when there was someone there to pull her strings.

"Hey," he said, as she turned towards him.

"Hey," she replied.

He moved past her to get his bag, pulling out a ubiquitous black button-down shirt and putting it on. Then he poured himself a glass of liquid courage and downed it in one gulp, grimacing as the alcohol burned his throat. He watched her from the corner of his eye, taking note of how she was sitting slightly hunched over with her hands in her lap and her hair partially hiding her face. She looked like a lost waif, but the effect had been better when her hair was longer. His heart twinged, and he set the glass down on the side table.

"I lost a lot of blood trying to dig that thing out of my chest," he told her gently. "I need to feed."

It was true. He'd bled like a pissing racehorse, and he didn't have any bagged blood to drink. He needed to replenish some of what he'd lost or he would start to get testy and short-tempered.

She nodded that she understood.

"There's a bar across the way. I'll go there. I won't be long."

"Could you take mine?" she asked.

If he'd been drinking, he would have spit the bourbon all over the room. "What?" he gasped, staring at her. "Why would you even want me to do such a thing?"

"I don't," she answered, and he knew they were the truest, most honest words she'd spoken to him since he'd walked into Klaus's mansion.

"Okay. Can we get to the part where you start making sense instead of you offering me your blood out of the blue? Which I deeply appreciate, by the way, even if I have to refuse."

"You need blood, and I… I don't think it's a good idea for me to be left alone. Klaus never left me alone," she explained.

He squirreled that factoid away for future examination and focused on the present.

"Okay," he said, coming to stand in front of her. "But you know you're safe with me, right? No one will hurt you."

She shook her head. "Klaus warned me that others would try to take me away and kill me so he couldn't make any more hybrids. What if some of them found out you had me and tried to take me away when you weren't here?"

"No one knows where we are, Elena."

"What if they followed us from Chicago? I don't feel safe without you here, Damon. Please don't leave me."

She was breaking his heart, and he wanted to howl, but he knew he needed to be patient with her. This wasn't her doing. She was compelled, and Klaus had pulled out all the stops to twist the knife as far into his gut as it would go. He breathed around the pain and worked to come up with a plan.

"Okay. Okay, how about this..." he said, going to his bag and taking out a container of salt he kept in there tucked amidst his standard weapons stash. Salt was integral in a lot of magic, and it always helped to have some when dealing with witches.

He ripped open the complementary coffee packet and dumped out the grinds so he could use the filter. Then he poured some salt on the paper and brought it over to Elena.

"Okay. Prick your finger with this and drop a few drops of your blood on the salt," he instructed, handing her the switchblade he'd used to cut himself with.

"Why?"

"It's a rental room. Ownership is ambiguous. I need your blood to tie this room to you. Once you are the _owner_, no vampire can come in without an invitation. Not even me."

"Oh," she replied, then obediently took the sharp edge of the blade and stabbed her left thumb. Blood welled up, assaulting his nose with the aroma of it, and he gritted his teeth to keep from moaning as he watched her drip several drops of blood onto the salt. "Enough?"

He nodded. "That should do it."

He mixed the blood and salt as Elena sucked the wound on her thumb, then he sprinkled the salt across the threshold of the doorway. He knew it had worked when he began having extreme difficulty breathing, and he felt like he was being crushed. He immediately exited the hotel room and stood on the other side of the barrier.

"Okay, Elena, now invite me in."

He watched as she slowly approached the open doorway and stood there looking at him, and for a moment he thought she was going to say no. He flashed back to the time when he and Stefan had turned the Boarding House over to her, and she'd insisted on him doing things her way before she would let him back into his own home. Gods, he'd been so angry with her, but also impressed with her bravery, even if her going rogue had completely fubared all of his plans.

'_C'mon, Elena, tell me to go fuck myself. C'mon. C'mon…'_ he silently prayed, even if it would mean he'd have to sleep in the rental car.

She raised her eyes to him, and he saw her. It was the briefest of flashes, a fleeting light that flared in her eyes before it was snuffed out by the compulsion, but he was certain he'd seen it. Even more, he was certain that she was aware of how much he was trying to help her break free.

'_I see you!'_ he wanted to yell, but he held his tongue and waited for her say the words that would re-invite him into the hotel room.

"Damon, please come in," she said, with almost no emotion, and he frowned as he stepped back through the doorway.

"Perfect," he said, with a smile he hoped was reassuring. "Now the only nasty, big bad vamp who can get in is me."

He reached for his jacket so he could go grab a bite at the bar, but she stopped him, putting her hand on his chest.

"Damon…"

"Elena, I told you it's safe. No other vamps can get in without an invite."

"What if it's a werewolf? Or a compelled human who can come in and drag me out?"

She did have a point. To be honest, he didn't even think about Elena being a target for kidnapping, but he supposed it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Obviously, Klaus had laid a fear of being taken away into her psyche, but he wasn't sure how real of a threat it actually was.

"Elena…"

She stopped him before he could continue. "Look. I know you won't drink from me, so let me order in."

He shook his head, confused, and watched as she went to the phone and pushed a button on the number pad.

"Hi. This is Elena Salvatore in room 415. There's been an accident, and we need someone from housekeeping to bring up some new towels and cleaning supplies. Yes. Four-fifteen. Thanks."

"Elena Salvatore?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. If she spouted some bullshit about being his, he was going to rip out his own eardrums just so he wouldn't have to hear it.

"The room's in your name, isn't it?" she replied reasonably.

"Point."

He watched her, following her with his eyes as she sat back down on the bed closest to the bathroom, noting that she had chosen the bed that was the more secure.

"Housekeeping should be here soon," she said, looking at him with a smug expression on her face.

Oh yes, she was so proud of herself and gloating as he stared at her. It wasn't that her suggestion was at all alien to him. It wasn't. In fact, he had "ordered in" many, many times, but it was the fact that _**she**_ had been the one to suggest it that was so surprising.

"Clever," he said, and she preened under the praise.

"Stefan always preferred the pizza delivery guy, but this way you can compel her to clean the bathroom when you're done," she told him, casting a dispassionate glance at the blood all over the tile floor.

"Good idea," he agreed, somewhat disturbed by her new nonchalant attitude towards using another human being for food and service.

It only brought into further focus how wrongly she was behaving. His Elena would never have suggested calling in some unsuspecting person for him to use as a snack and then blithely recommend that he compel that snack to clean up a bloody mess. At the same time, there had been a time when he would have wanted _**exactly**_ that from someone he was considering taking as a long-term partner.

A vampire needed a particular type of person to take as a mate. Typically that person was strong, not afraid of violence or blood, and in possession of questionable morals, but those types of humans were rare. More often than not, a vampire either compelled someone to be a companion or entered into a one-sided relationship with a person who had an addictive personality. Andie had been the closest thing he'd had to a mate, and she had been compelled. Elena was compelled, too, but since he hadn't been the one to compel her, he didn't know what all the compulsion entailed.

"Where did you learn that stuff with the salt?" she asked him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"I've been spending a lot of time with witches. After a while, stuff starts to wear off," he answered, choosing his words carefully because he hadn't ruled out the possibility that she was spying for Klaus.

'_What a perfect, little mole,'_ he mused sadly.

"It looks like you've learned a lot."

He shrugged. "Vampire memory helps. I don't tend to forget much."

She looked down at her hands in her lap and sighed. "I know."

A knock on the door interrupted whatever she'd been about to say, and he stood up as Elena went to answer it. He kept out of sight behind the door and waited for the person to enter. It was a dark-skinned woman in a maid's uniform, and he stepped up behind her as Elena closed the door. She seemed to sense the danger she was in because she whirled around to face him, her eyes wide and her hand grasping for the crucifix at her throat; his gaze met hers and he had her.

"Be still. Don't be afraid," he told her.

She let out a frightened squeak, then calmed, her arms going limp at her sides. In his peripheral vision, he saw Elena return to sitting on the bed, her eyes watching him with cool indifference, and it made him uncomfortable. His Elena should not be calmly watching while he fed on some stranger they'd lured to their hotel room under false pretenses. It was wrong. She was shattering all his illusions of her.

"Don't move. Don't make a sound. This won't hurt," he said to the maid, resolving to take what he needed and get it over with, then he leaned in to the juncture of her neck and bit just hard enough to gain him access to the jugular.

He could be a neat feeder when he wanted. In fact, he'd been getting more and more fastidious about his eating habits, and now he rarely spilled blood or made his victim a mangled mess. As he fed, Elena's eyes on him kept him present, and he only drank as much as he needed to quell his hunger. When he was finished, he pulled back and gave her a few drops of his blood to heal the wounds.

"There. Good as new. Now, please clean the bathroom. Don't mind the blood. It's perfectly normal," he said, holding her gaze.

He and Elena were silent as the maid performed the task of wiping up the blood splattered all over the bathroom, and he tucked a $100 bill into the front pocket of her uniform as a tip when she was done.

"For a job well done. Thank you. You won't remember any of this, and you found the money left for you in one of the rooms," he told her, giving her a smile as she slipped out the door.

"That was nice of you," Elena said after the maid was gone.

He shrugged. "Call it hazard pay."

She chuckled and gave him a smile, then she scooted back on the mattress she was on and rested her back against the headboard.

"So we'll get to Mystic Falls tomorrow afternoon?" she asked.

He sat down on the same bed she was on and nodded. "Yeah, something like that. How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok. My back hurts a bit, but it's not too bad. I'm tired mostly, but I think that is only going to get worse."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Have you ever… y'know… had to take care of a pregnant woman before?"

"No. I was a boy when Mother was pregnant with Stefan, and well… vampire," he explained, pointing to himself.

She laughed softly and nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry about earlier. It's just… a few years ago there was a plot to kidnap me. A bunch of werewolves and vampires teamed up, and they were going to try to steal me from Klaus and kill me so he couldn't make any more hybrids. Klaus found out about it, he sent a bunch of his hybrids to stop them, and a lot of them died. It was a big fight."

He wanted to tell her that he knew because he'd been there, but a little voice in his head told him to be cautious and not say anything. Instead he just nodded that he understood.

"Anyway, ever since… I've been worried about it happening again. Thank you for staying with me."

He gave her a tight smile. "No problem."

"I mean it, Damon. Thank you. I know our history isn't the happiest, but I'm going to try to do better. I promise."

"Okay. I'll try too."

She gave him a genuine smile that made him ache. "You already are," she insisted, then grimaced and put her hand on her belly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just gotta pee… again. Good thing the bathroom's clean now," she answered, getting off the bed and going into the bathroom.

He looked at the closed door and let his heart drop. He was figuring out more of the compulsion, and he'd come to another unsettling conclusion. She was perfect. She was everything he could ever have wanted her to be, everything he had ever dreamed she could be, but none of it was real. Klaus had compelled her to be the perfect vampire's companion, and he was showing Damon everything he had ever wanted, but could never, ever have. It was twisted, heartless and unbelievably cruel, but so, so _**Klaus**_.

Klaus had damned him to hell by giving him heaven.


	5. Chapter 5

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: The holidays are upon us here in the US. That time of year when perfectly sane people lose their minds. Updates may be longer in coming as I have lots of stuff to do between now and the New Year, but I will try to plug away at it. Be safe all, and remember, "normal" is a setting on the dryer.

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Chapter Five

He dubbed her Stepford Elena, the Vampire's Girlfriend Edition. Specifically designed to meet a vampire's unique girlfriend needs. Obedient, but not subservient. Accepting of his vampirism and immortality. Unafraid of blood, violence and things that go bump in the night. Probably uninhibited in bed, and not concerned with getting a little blood on the sheets. Yep. Perfect vampire's girlfriend.

She was like Robot Buffy. Somewhere in her head there was a little program running called "Make Damon Happy."

If he said to her, "Elena, be a dear and go fetch me something to eat," he was sure she'd ask him, "Blond, redhead or brunette?"

The very thought chilled him to his bones, and he needed to find the off switch.

After they went to bed, Elena in her bed, and he… well, he wasn't letting his guard down for anything so he sat in the chair by the window, drank bourbon, and stared out at the horizon like some hapless sentry waiting for the Huns to storm the fortress walls at dawn.

He needed to talk to Gloria because he had to break this compulsion, and he had to do it without vervain. He knew of a few herbs that could do the same thing as vervain, but they had to build up in someone's system to take full effect, and he wasn't sure they'd be any good in battling what he was up against in Elena's head. No. If what he suspected was accurate, and he was usually, tragically, right about these things, the piddly herbs he was thinking of wouldn't do jack shit.

Which meant he'd have to bring in the big guns, but all the ones he knew of couldn't be given to a pregnant woman.

'_Probably another layer to this,'_ he thought, drinking another two fingers of bourbon. _'Klaus would have anticipated me trying to break the compulsion. He would have made it such that the only things that could do it were things that would endanger the baby. The man's a classic evil genius. I could only hope to be that brilliant of a badass.'_

Really, he ought to be taking notes because the Original Were-Vamp was a master.

But that didn't solve his problem of what he was going to do with Stepford Elena. If he was right, then she would mold herself into whatever she thought he wanted/needed, and try to become the perfect vampire's mate. Which sucked because he loved her, and he wanted what she was offering, but only if it was real.

It wasn't fair. He'd had a good life. No, he didn't have the woman he loved, but he'd had pretty much everything else. He'd had sex when he wanted it, and blood when he wanted it. He'd loved the house in Italy, and the freedom to go where he wanted, when he wanted. He'd been well-liked, admired and respected by the community. He'd had himself, and his own sense of self-worth, which was something that had been a _**long**_ time in coming. He'd had friends, and a sense of purpose, and he'd been content. Not happy, but content. He'd had all he'd needed even if he didn't have all he'd wanted, and it had been enough.

Now it was one crazy-ass, fucked up mess, and he'd been dragged into the middle of it. Part of him wanted to take her back to Klaus, and just tell him to go fuck himself, but another part of him wanted to _**win**_, to stick it to the asshole who had warped Elena's mind and used her body as his own breeding farm. To do that, he needed to quit with the pity party, and get over himself. Yes, it sucked. Yes, it was fucked up beyond all recognition, but he needed to buck up and deal with it. Not everyone got a pony for Christmas.

Well, okay, he _**had**_ gotten a pony for Christmas, but that was beside the point. The point was he had to get serious. Elena needed him to figure out a way to break the compulsion and kill Klaus. Yes, yes, he knew that he'd die too if he killed Klaus, but there had to be a way to either separate him from his bloodline or incapacitate him.

He had a weapon that could kill an Original. He'd fucking _**killed**_ Finn. He was sufficiently motivated to figure this shit out otherwise they'd all be dancing to Klaus's tune for eternity. And Damon Salvatore danced to no one's tune but his own. He was done being a puppet, and he'd be damned twice before he let Elena be one, too. As soon as they got to Mystic Falls, he was going to get to work.

Not for the first time, he wished Witchy was still alive. Bonnie could have helped him, and her ties to the Bennett line would have worked in his favor. He wanted to bring in Gloria, but he doubted she'd come to Virginia. He would ask, though, because he could use all the help he could get. He was also thinking of calling in Junior Gilbert. The kid had been a decent fighter, and it looked like, maybe, he'd come to terms with Damon leaving his sister with Klaus. He could use another hunter/Elena babysitter since it looked like she didn't want to be left alone.

He wished he could call Ric, but he suspected that Ric would happily show up in time to drive a stake through his heart.

Donovan was a football star at Clemson, and, from what Damon could tell, had happily left Mystic Falls in his dust. Blondie and Lockwood were out, unless she'd done something with the vervain he'd given her, but even then he didn't know how much they could be trusted.

Liz was still sheriff as far as he knew, so he had an in with the police department, and he was still on the Founder's Council. He wondered what Bill Forbes was up to because, while he hated the guy, and the feeling was mutual, there was no denying the man possessed serious mental skills. Maybe he could be brought in to help break Elena's compulsion.

Just as he had done six years ago, he created a chessboard in his mind and populated it with the different pieces that made up the game he was about to play. He was the king, but Elena was Queen, and it was his job to protect her. He might have Knights and Bishops in Gloria and Junior Gilbert, but he needed a couple of Rooks and a whole bunch of Pawns. He also needed a better view of who Klaus had on his side, and he wondered which team his baby bro would fight for. Knowing Stefan, he'd be a wild card until the end, and he didn't even want to _**think**_ where Rebekah fit into all of it. Not to mention Katherine, who he half expected to already be in Mystic Falls when they arrived. Now wouldn't _**that**_ be a barrel of laughs?

He was planning his next two or three moves, and trying to anticipate what moves Klaus would make, when he heard Elena mumble his name.

"Damon."

The word was slurred, as if she was having difficulty getting it out, and red lights and sirens went off in his head. He was at her side in a vamp second, leaning over her and looking at her face. Her brow was creased, and she appeared to be in pain. The warning bells shrieked louder, and he bent close.

"Damon," she murmured again, her voice rough.

"I'm here," he replied, instinctively keeping his voice very soft, almost vamp-hearing soft.

He watched as her eyes fluttered, then opened, and he saw her pupils dilate in the low light.

"Damon," she whispered again, but it was _**how**_ she said it that clued him in.

Half command, half plea. It was her. Somehow his brave, beautiful, wonderful girl had broken through, but he was afraid to touch her or speak because he didn't want to trigger the compulsion. She had obviously managed to fight it back, but there was no telling how long that would last. He was worried that saying her name might flip the Stepford switch, so he took a risk and squeezed her hand to let her know that he had heard her.

Her hand closed around his, and it said so much: Thank you. I see you. I'm here.

"I…" she tried, but he could tell it was a struggle.

"I know," he assured her. "I understand. It's okay. It'll be okay."

"Thank…"

"No need. I've got you. I'm going to save you. I promise," he vowed.

She nodded ever so slightly, then her pupils contracted and her body jerked, and he knew she'd been chased back to the dungeon as Stepford Elena took over. She came fully awake, shaking her head and sitting up as he pulled away from her.

"Damon?" she asked. "Is everything alright?"

He smiled to hide his frustration and disappointment. "Yeah. Everything is fine. You were mumbling in your sleep so I decided to check on you."

She swept back her hair as she looked around, confused. "Oh. Sorry. Was I saying anything important?"

Had she been herself, he would have teased her mercilessly and smirked as he told her he'd caught her moaning his name, but since it wasn't the real Elena, he held his tongue.

"No, just mumbles," he lied.

"Okay. What time is it?"

"About four-thirty."

She frowned. "That's ear…" Her face contorted as she suddenly bent over, then she scrambled for the bathroom.

He was right behind her as she threw herself over the toilet, and he held her hair as she vomited. When she was done, he gave her a cup of water to rinse out her mouth and rubbed her back as she got herself together.

"Shit, I hate this," she blurted, and he really wondered who was talking. Could his Elena have broken through again? He tried to catch her eye to see if he could tell, but she had them closed as she leaned against the porcelain bowl.

"What can I do?" he questioned, stroking her hair. "What helps?"

She shook her head. "Nothing really. I always puke at least once. Sometimes when Caroline compels it away, that's all I'll puke, but sometimes not even that works."

"Here. Let me try something, okay?" he offered.

"Okay."

He took her hand and pressed his thumb into the valley between her tendons about two inches down from her wrist. With his other hand, he reached up to press his other thumb on a point just below her earlobe where her jawbone began.

"Better?" he asked, after a few minutes of applying pressure to the trigger points he knew were there.

"Actually… yeah. It is. I don't feel like my insides are going to become my outsides anymore. Thanks," she answered, sounding a little surprised.

"No problem."

"No, Damon, I mean it. Thank you. You have no idea how awful this is for me, throwing up all the time. Any relief you can give me is a blessing."

She was being genuine, and he knew it. "You're welcome, just don't tell anyone. I have a reputation as a big bad vampire to preserve, you know."

She laughed. "You never let anyone see the good in you, Damon, and you should."

"I told you. When people see good, they expect good, and I don't want to have to live up to anyone's expectations."

"But you're so much more than what people think you are. They should know."

He shrugged. "You know. That's enough for me."

She shook her head and gave him a tender smile. "You've changed."

"So have you," he pointed out.

Her face fell and she looked away. "I haven't changed nearly enough," she said in a distant voice.

He took her chin and turned her head to look at him. "Listen to me. We're going to get through this. I promise," he said, and he was speaking to both of them.

Her eyes started to glaze over, so he put his hand over them to make sure it wasn't him doing it.

"You won't risk compelling me. Why?" she asked.

"You know why. I want what's between us to be real."

It was comical to be telling her that since he knew he was talking to Stepford Elena, but he knew his Elena could hear him. He knew from experience that compelled victims were conscious during their compulsion even if they had no control over their bodies.

She took his hand and held it, squeezing lightly. "Thank you."

He looked away, his heart twisting in his chest, then bowed towards her. "Ready to go back to bed? I think you should get a little more sleep before we get on the road."

She nodded, then gasped as he slid his arms under her and carried her bridal-style back to the bed. He closed his eyes as she rested her head against his neck and automatically put one hand up to grasp his shoulder. She was no burden at all. He could have carried her back to Mystic Falls on foot, and it would have been no trouble for him. He put her down on the mattress, but she clung to him. He managed to pull back just enough for them to meet eyes, and the look on her face was mix of confusion, longing and surprise. He had no doubt he was wearing the same expression on his own face.

"Damon," she whispered, her eyes dropping to his lips.

He swallowed hard and made every effort to gently disentangle himself from her hold. She finally released him, and he placed her with exaggerated tenderness on the bed, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her side. Even if it wasn't real, he had longed to have her this way, and he wasn't strong enough to resist her completely. She took his reluctance to pull away as encouragement and reached out to touch his hand.

"What is it about my pregnancy that makes vampires want to kill me?" she asked.

He let her close her fingers over his palm and rested his other hand over hers.

"We feed on life, Elena, and nothing is more alive than a pregnant woman," he told her, wondering why that hadn't explained already.

"Caroline said every instinct in her told her to kill me. She begged Klaus to compel her to resist it," she said. "Stefan almost killed me twice. He said my scent is irresistible now."

"It is," he agreed.

Her brow creased, and she shook her head slightly, doing that thing where she upturned her ear a little. She was looking to him for answers, the way she'd always had, because she knew he would tell her the truth even if she wasn't going to like it. He took her hand and brought it to his chest, placing the flat of her palm over his heart and holding it there with both of his hands.

"Imagine that you've been away from home for a long time, and you finally make it back. And when you go into the house, you find that your mother is cooking your favorite food. The whole house smells of it. You are drawn to the kitchen where you watch her cooking, and the smell is overwhelming, and you are _**dying**_ for a taste because that scent is everything that's good and right. It's every happy memory that you've ever had all wrapped into one aroma," he explained, trying to put what it was like to smell her and be with her in terms she could understand.

"Is that what I smell like to you?" she asked, a little awed by his answer.

He nodded.

"How do you stand it?"

He shrugged and released her hand, reaching out to hook one errant lock of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm used to it. You've always smelled like home to me, Elena. It's just stronger now. There's a sharper edge to it."

"Oh."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Get some sleep. We still have a long drive ahead of us," he said, encouraging her to get back under the covers.

She did as he asked and rested her head on the pillow. He brought the covers up to her shoulders and tucked her in.

"But it's different for you," she said suddenly, as he moved to get up. "Everyone else wanted to kill me, but you didn't. Miriam said you wouldn't be a threat to me. Why?"

"You know why. Because I love you."

She frowned. "Stefan loves me, too, but he still wanted to drain me dry."

"Stefan's a Ripper douche with no self-control. I'm not."

She snickered. "You still call him that."

He smirked. "Of course I do. Big brother prerogative."

Her smiled faded, and she looked lost. "I miss Jeremy."

"Want me to hunt him down and drag him home?" he offered, with a wicked smile he knew would make her laugh. It worked.

"No. He's in New York. He got into NYU."

"I knew he'd get the hell out of Mystic Falls as soon as he could. That town was too small for him."

"It'll be weird going back. I'm sure it's changed."

"I keep telling you, you don't have to. We can go anywhere you want."

She rolled her eyes, and it was so Elena that he was taken aback. "Yes, yes, Italy. Spain. Mount Everest."

"Hey, hey. No mountain climbing for you. Thin air is bad for the baby."

She laughed again, then her face changed, and he recognized the signs of nausea. Vampire-quick, he grabbed her wrist and put pressure on the trigger point with his thumb, rhythmically pressing on it until she relaxed and the moment seemed to pass.

"Better?" he asked.

She took a gulp of air and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"No problem."

"When we get to Mystic Falls, we'll stop at the market and get the ingredients for that tea. It'll help."

"Yeah."

He released her wrist and moved get up, but she reached out to stop him.

"Stay with me, please? Just until I fall back to sleep? You can keep the nausea from coming back."

He had to hold back a groan because she really was killing him, but he managed a tight smile. "Sure."

She scooted a little bit away from the edge of the bed and turned on her side, facing away from the bathroom. He lay down on top of the covers on her left side, putting his body between her and the door to the hotel room. They were facing each other, each looking at the other, and she slid her arm towards him, her wrist facing up. He took the cue and lightly wrapped his fingers around her arm. He could feel the warmth of her skin and the steady pulsing of her heart beneath his fingertips.

"Thanks," she whispered, her eyes drifting closed.

"No problem," he whispered back.

She was asleep a few moments later, but he stayed right where he was. It was heaven, it was hell, but he was going to take every crumb she gave him and cherish every moment they had, because _**his**_ Elena was in there, and if he played his cards right, he'd come out the winner, _**and**_ he'd get the girl.

It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that, if he could get rid of Klaus and break her compulsion, that Elena – the adult Elena, might look his way, and see him as a good match for her. At least now he had hope for that, when before he'd had none. It'd be a fine line to walk, but he'd danced on tightropes before, and everyone knew he was a bitch for love. He had a chance, which was more than he'd had two days ago, and he was going to do his damnedest to try to make things work out in his favor.

He watched her sleeping, reveling in her warmth and scent, until he relaxed enough to close his eyes. Yeah, he could give Elena a dream right now, like he had for Rose, and share it with her, but it wasn't the time. There'd be time for dreams, even the waking kind, and he hoped that very soon, they'd dream those dreams together.


	6. Chapter 6

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. This time of year is always crazy. I will try to get my updates out with some form of regularity. Enjoy.

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Chapter Six

Sometime between when Damon fell asleep and when he woke hours later, Elena had pressed her cheek into the crook of his shoulder and draped an arm across his chest. He awakened immersed in her scent and the feel of her warm body snuggled against him, and his eyes snapped open to the gradually lightening room. His hunger and arousal were ratcheted to a fever pitch, and he was _**ravenous**_ for blood and sex. So much so, that he felt his fangs come down and his eyes turn red. It took everything he had not to roll Elena over onto her back and sink his teeth into her throat while he ripped off her sleep shorts and thrust his hard cock into her.

His beast was raging, and he was rarely so close to losing control. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand in hopes that the pain would help him focus on something other than feeding from and fucking the woman obliviously sleeping next to him. He was perilously close to losing the battle because Elena took that moment to roll over, shifting her body to release more warm, Elena-scent into his nose. His saving grace was the hapless maid who just so happened to tap on the hotel room door at that moment.

"Housekeeping," came the disembodied voice.

He was out of bed and throwing open the door before his conscious mind even had a chance to register what he was doing. His hands grabbed the shocked woman, and his eyes snared hers.

"Don't scream. Don't make a sound," his voice commanded as he dragged her into the room and closed the door with a bang.

Her body jerked in his hold as he drove his fangs into her jugular and drank deep. It was the messiest bite he'd made in months, and the blood spurted from the wounds and splashed on his face and neck. He opened his mouth wide to catch the pulsing flow, not wanting to lose a drop. A messy eater was a sign of poor control, and blood was too precious to waste.

He heard himself moaning as he took swallow after swallow, until she began to go limp in his arms and her heart started to falter. The tiny part of his rational brain that was still functioning began screaming that he'd better let her go or he was going to kill her, and his beast was sated enough to reluctantly listen. When he pulled back, they were both sprawled on the floor, and he was shocked by the mess he'd made of her flesh, by the raggedness of the bite and the ripped muscle and tendons now exposed on her neck. Blood was still weakly spilling from the wounds in time with her heartbeat, and he knew he had no choice but to heal her or she'd surely die.

He bit into his wrist and pressed it to her lips, urging her to drink.

"Take it. You'll be okay."

He held his wrist to her mouth until she'd taken a few swallows, and he saw the wounds on her neck begin to heal. He relaxed a bit, shaking his head to clear the last bits of the red haze of hunger and need from his vision, and his eyes caught the sight of Elena standing a few feet away, staring at him. His first thought was "Oh shit," and his second thought was to do damage control, but then he looked at himself and realized that was pretty much hopeless. His chin and neck were covered in blood, more was splashed on his chest and button down shirt, and the maid was a limp, gasping wreck with a – healing! – wound the size of the Grand Canyon ripped into her neck, blood all over the collar of her blue uniform.

There really wasn't anything he could say about the situation that wouldn't either make it worse or sound hopelessly pathetic. Lucky for him, he'd been thinking he was dealing with his Elena, but no, this was Stepford Elena, Vampire's Girlfriend Edition, and she didn't shrink from a little blood… okay, a _**lot**_ of blood. Oh no! Stepford Elena had the situation well in hand.

He watched, stunned, as Elena grabbed his wallet from the bedside table, opened it and pulled out two one hundred dollar bills that she brought over to the maid and stuffed into her front pocket. It was probably more money than she made in a week of scrubbing toilets.

"Here, take this. Damon, you should tell her to take the rest of the day off and go home."

Still half out of his mind, he obeyed, forcing the woman to look at him.

"You won't remember any of this. You will go home because you aren't feeling well, and you will stay in bed for the next twenty-four hours. Drink lots of fluids, use some of the money to buy a nice, big, juicy steak and eat all of it, and be very careful not to die, because if you do it with my blood in your system, you _**will**_ come back a vampire, and I _**will**_ kill you because I do not have time to train a baby vamp."

He stayed on the floor as the woman shakily rose to her feet and staggered out the door that Elena graciously opened for her. He then slumped against the wall, his arms and legs akimbo, and looked up at her, waiting for the rant and screaming to begin, but it didn't come. Instead he followed her with his eyes as she went into the bathroom and came back out with a wet rag. Then she knelt next to him and began wiping the blood from his face and neck.

"I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see me like this," he apologized, taking the rag from her and dabbing at the blood on his chin.

"You didn't kill her or rip her body into pieces," she replied. "You stopped yourself, and you were even giving her your blood to heal her. You didn't _**want**_ to hurt her."

"No," he admitted.

She put one hand on his knee, and he stared at her fingernails so he wouldn't have to look at the tops of her breasts as she leaned towards him in her sleeveless tank top. _**That**_ part of his hunger had not been sated, and Little Damon was standing up and taking notice, much to his discomfort.

"Did you get enough?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave.

He nodded, suddenly not liking the vibe or the scent rising off of her, and he was getting very nervous. The pheromones were so thick in the air he could almost trace their vapor trails, and he started to feel like a virgin teenager on his first prom night. He was trying to figure out his next move when she straddled him and took the rag from his hand.

"Elena, what…"

She put a finger on his lips as her other hand began to open the buttons of his shirt so she could wash away the blood on his chest.

"Shhhhh. Let me do this."

It was a good thing that the warm rag had gone cold otherwise he would have lost it the moment she ran the wet terrycloth over his nipple. The nipple that didn't have any blood on it, by the way.

"Elena…"

She shifted forward, gripping the outside of his thighs with her knees, and bent her head down as she washed his neck. His breath caught as he took in a lungful of her aroused scent, and his hands curled into fists as her lips came down on his.

Her first kiss was tentative, and because he was still too stunned to respond, she took it as acceptance and turned up the heat. He'd only tasted her once before, when he was dying from the werewolf bite, and that was a distant memory. That had been a tender kiss goodbye, a sweet, honeyed peck. This? This was an assault on every sense he had, including his sense of reason.

His mouth opened to voice a protest, but she stuck her tongue into it, then his body and beast staged a revolt, chasing his heart and conscience into a dark corner as she threaded her hands into his hair and pulled him towards her, almost ripping his hair out by the roots. He moaned deep and ran his hands up her back, digging his fingertips into the planes of her shoulders to grip her tighter. She pushed closer to him, her breasts pressing flat against his chest, the soft scrape of her tank top igniting the fires in his belly as he felt her nipples harden.

He was fast on his way to vamp-speed tossing her on the bed, and having her in every way he'd ever fantasized about having her, when she pulled back and began licking the blood from his neck. A bell went off in his head because his Elena would never do that, and then he came to his senses enough to remember that this was Stepford Elena.

Stepford Elena, Vampire's Girlfriend Edition, was turned on by the sight of her vamp feeding on a strange woman and felt the need to stake her claim, but Stepford Elena wasn't real. That knowledge was enough to splash cold water on his ardor, and he was able to force himself to gently push her away.

"Elena. Elena, no. We can't do this," he said, panting.

Stepford Elena, sensing victory, would not be deterred. She pressed forward, leaning down to kiss him again.

"Why not?" she asked, but didn't give him the chance to reply as her lips claimed his again, and for a minute he couldn't think of why not either. He sunk into her taste and smell for a few moments before an image of his Elena, locked in her own mind and screaming protests, flashed behind his closed eyes.

He couldn't do this. If he wanted a chance with Elena once the compulsion was broken, he couldn't give in to her alter ego's advances. Gasping, aching, he took her by the upper arms and pried her off of him.

"We can't, Elena. Please stop."

She gave him a crushed look, her hands reaching to stroke his chest. He groaned and asked himself again why he was refusing this woman who he had wanted for so long.

"Elena, no," he commanded, grabbing her hands and making her stop touching him.

"Don't you want me?" she asked, her big doe eyes brimming with tears of rejection.

"I want you, Elena. You have no idea how much I want you, but I want it to be right, and it's not right, right now. Let's get back to Mystic Falls. Let's get to know each other again. Then we'll see where this goes, okay?" he explained, hoping she'd buy that line of bullshit because it was all he had.

"Why the moral compass now, Damon? You used to screw strangers in back alleys," she countered, frowning.

"And I still do. But those are nameless fucks I don't give a shit about. You're you, and I love you, and I want what's between us to last. I want to do this right, Elena. Please help me to do it right. Please?"

His begging seemed to get through to her, and she slowly backed off of him, but he could tell she was disappointed. Hell, he could understand her frustration completely. He was disappointed, Little Damon was lodging a formal protest, his balls no doubt were turning blue, and none of them were getting any satisfaction today.

When she was clear of him, he rose to his feet and offered her a hand to help her up. She looked at it, then shook her head, laughing softly as she accepted his assistance.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Us. The role reversal. There was a time when you would have been the one coming on to me, and not the other way around. I blame it on the hormones."

He rolled his eyes in exaggerated annoyance. "Oh, those pesky hormones. They'll do it to you every time."

She laughed again and smiled a genuine smile, and he wondered if his Elena was smiling, too. "Just wait until we get to the cravings."

"I am not going out in the middle of the night to fetch you pickles and ice cream," he warned, giving her a stern look.

"Ewwwww," she replied, crinkling her nose, and he had to look away because it only made him ache to kiss her again.

He plucked at his bloody shirt and frowned. "I'm going to go freshen up. Did you want to order room service for breakfast or eat on the road?"

"I think there's been enough room service already," she joked.

"Well, just look at you, the comedian. Hardee, har, har," he jibed as he went to his bag and pulled out some fresh clothes.

"I had a good teacher," she replied with a heated look and a very Damon-equse smirk on her face.

The smirk sent his arousal spiking again because it looked so sexy on her, and he hurried to the bathroom before he did something that he knew he'd regret. He reached down into his jeans and squeezed his balls hard enough for him to see stars, and Little Damon immediately went limp. Then he took a cold shower just to drive his point home. By the time he was dry and dressed, he had his body and his emotions back under control, and he felt that he was ready to face whatever Stepford Elena had in store for him.

He was glad, and pleasantly surprised, to find that she had taken him to heart and had gotten them all packed up and ready to go. Part of him had half expected to find her naked on the bed when he came out of the bathroom, and he was disappointed, but proud, when he found that she hadn't gone down the "let's seduce the emotionally unstable vampire" route. He wondered how much influence his Elena had over her alter ego. It was something he intended to explore once they were back in Mystic Falls.

"You got us all ready to go. Great," he said, praising her because he knew Stepford Elena would blossom under his approval.

She smiled at him and tucked her hair behind her ear. He smiled back and stowed his bloody shirt wrapped in one of the plastic trash bags from the bathroom into his luggage. He'd decide if it could be salvaged later, then again he had more than enough money to just replace it if he felt it wasn't worth the effort. Of course, if he threw away every item of clothing that got blood on it, he'd either be naked all the time or constantly shopping.

'_Elena would just love that. I remember how she was with my credit card in Chicago,' _he mused, then wondered if she'd matured any in that department. Which led him to thinking about how she had grown, and then led him to thinking about her pregnancy, and… hmm, she hadn't gotten sick upon awakening this morning.

"How are you feeling by the way?" he asked. "I just now noticed that you didn't have to visit the toilet bowl when you got up."

She held up her wrist and showed him how she was putting pressure on the trigger point herself. "It works."

"Excellent. That, combined with the tea I'll make, will hopefully take care of the daily puking for good," he commented, slinging his bag over his shoulder and taking hold of her rolling suitcase.

"How do you know all this stuff about pressure points and herbs? You sound like… Miriam," she questioned as she picked up her gym bag and followed him out of the room.

He grimaced because he knew she'd been about to say "Bonnie," but had changed it to Miriam at the last moment. He didn't blame her. Bonnie's senseless death was still too raw for him, and he hadn't been terribly close to her. He couldn't imagine how much Elena was still hurting. He tried to make her feel better by cracking one of his typical sarcastic jibes with a smirk.

"Just call me Severus."

It worked because she snorted and rolled her eyes. "No, seriously."

"Seriously?" he questioned, giving her a look as they got in the elevator. She nodded so he shrugged. "Gloria taught me a few things while we were traveling together."

"Taught you a few things?"

He shrugged. "Okay, maybe not a _**few**_ things, but it was enough. I have some good ideas on how to alleviate the morning sickness," he told her, purposefully obscuring the truth about how much he knew. He wasn't that far away from being Professor Snape as far as potions were concerned, but _**this**_ Elena didn't need to know that.

She held up her wrist again and gave him a smile. "Well, this was a pretty good idea so I guess I'll trust you."

He couldn't stop the grin that lit up his face, even if it was only for a moment. "Thanks."

They exited the elevator and headed out to the parking lot where the rental car was parked. He fished the keys out of his pocket and pressed the button to unlock the car and pop open the trunk, then he stowed his bag and her rolling suitcase.

"You said you're going to get the Camaro out of storage?" she asked, as he took the gym bag from her and put it in the trunk.

"Yeah. I'll call and make arrangements for it to be shipped," he answered, closing the trunk, then he escorted her to the passenger side and opened the door for her so she could get into the seat.

"We'll have to figure out how to get a car seat into it. If I remember correctly, it didn't have any rear seat safety belts."

He choked and did a double-take, staring at her in horror. "I am not putting a car seat in my Camaro!"

She blinked at him. "We'll have to. It'll be the only car we have because I don't have mine anymore. Tyler told me Jeremy took it. Unless you were planning to buy a minivan or something?"

"I'm not buying a minivan!" he all but shrieked. The very concept of him owning a soccer-mom mobile made him shudder.

"Well, we'll have to have something that can take a car seat unless we plan to be walking everywhere. In which case, you can wear the baby sling because you're the one with the back that can't be hurt."

"Just hand me a hammer, and I'll give myself a lobotomy with the claw," he answered, turning the car on and putting it in gear.

She laughed. "You would, too. What about something like this car? It's nice enough."

He shook his head. "No heated seats," he replied.

She gave him a raised eyebrow; something he was pretty sure she'd learned from him, or maybe she was just mimicking him. It was hard to tell.

"Hey, I don't like being cold any more than you do. If we're going to live where it snows, I want heated seats."

"The Camaro doesn't have heated seats," she pointed out.

"Yeah, well… I've grown soft in my old age. I like my comforts."

"I don't think you've gone soft. I think you're harder than you've ever been. It's just that you're not afraid to show your humanity anymore. At least, not to me," she commented with more insight than he'd ever given her.

Her searching look made him uncomfortable because he was pretty sure he saw flashes of his Elena looking out of those dark eyes, and he didn't want to be bare before her right now.

"You hungry? Do you think you could eat and keep it down?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay. I'll find us a diner."

"One with a lot of trucks in the parking lot," she added in a matter-of-fact tone.

He nearly choked on the memory of the shit diner just outside of Dayton, Ohio that they'd eaten in so long ago, then Elena proved that they really were sharing a brain.

"How far away is that diner we ate at? Do you think Candy is still working there?"

At first he thought she was mocking him, but her expression was genuine when he looked at her.

"It's about an hour away with my driving," he answered. "And if Candy knew what was good for her, she should have quit and gotten her Masters degree by now."

"Is that what you told her to do?"

He shook his head. "No. I told her she was better than that place, and that she was smart and she should use that to get out of there. Compulsion can't make you something you already aren't. It can't make you smart or make you fall in love with someone…"

"But Andie…" she began, but he stopped her.

"Andie was attracted to me before I compelled her. The feelings were already there. I just told her to act on them. There's a big difference."

She nodded, and it looked like she understood. He hoped so because the message was for both of them.

"Anyway, is that where you wanna go?"

"Yeah. They had good food."

"Okay," he agreed, wondering where else they would go on their little trip down Memory Highway. It was a good thing that Chicago was behind them, because if she'd suggested that they go to the Navy Pier, he might have broken down in tears or thrown himself off the top of the Ferris wheel. He wasn't sure which.

He got them on to the highway, headed East, and floored it because he needed bourbon just as much as she needed to eat, and he'd finished off the last of the bottles he'd bought last night. All he needed was a cheap liquor store, and he'd be having some Irish coffee for breakfast.

He made it to the exit where they had pulled off to go to the diner six years ago, and he was pleasantly surprised to find that a shopping center with a liquor store had been built across the road from it.

"Jackpot," he said with a little smile as he turned left into the shopping center's parking lot.

"Day drinking again?" she teased.

"Hey, it's nighttime in Australia," he quipped back, putting the car in park. "I'll just be a sec."

"Pick up some wine for me?"

"Hey, no booze for the pregnant lady."

"I read an article that said a little bit of wine is okay."

"If I don't get you wine will you _**whine**_?" he countered.

She gave him an exasperated frown, and he gave in because he was a sucker for her big, brown eyes.

"Okay, okay. My mother drank when she was pregnant with Stefan, and I guess he turned out okay. Except for the whole being a douche thing."

"If your mother drank while she was pregnant with you, that would explain a great deal," she quipped, but she was smiling.

"Touche!" he said, patting his chest. Their banter was oddly freeing, and he felt joy bubbling up inside him again. His Elena had a sense of humor, and it was showing through again. Unless she was only teasing him because the compulsion urged her to do things she knew he would like.

That didn't sit well with him, but it was one of the things he would deal with later. For now, he shoved it into the box marked "Deal With in Mystic Falls" and closed the lid.

"What kind of wine would you like m'lady? And you _**do**_ know we have several thousand of dollars worth of wine in the Boarding House wine cellar, right?"

"Oh, well, okay then. Nevermind."

"So no wine and you won't whine?"

"I'll whine if you don't get me over to that diner soon because I have to pee."

"Got it."

He used vamp speed to streak out of the car, but walked quickly once he was in the store. He bought two bottles of top shelf bourbon and was back in the car in less than three minutes. They were in the diner in less than five, and Elena made a beeline for the bathroom as soon as they walked in.

"Good morning. Two?" the hostess asked, watching Elena hurry for the ladies' room without so much as a hello.

"Yes," he replied, keeping one eye on Elena while also doing a quick scan of the diner for potential threats. They were out in public again, and his protective instincts were spiking.

"Booth near the bathroom?" the woman asked with a knowing smile.

"Perfect," he responded, then caught her eye. "And don't seat anyone near us."

She stared at him blankly, then nodded, guiding him to a booth at the end of the row. It was against a blind wall and since the hallway to the bathroom was right there, there were no booths alongside it. He sat with his back to the wall and noted that his line of sight to the front entrance was unobstructed. He also had a clear view of the door to the bathroom.

"How's this, honey?" she asked, giving him an appreciative look.

There had been a time when he would have welcomed her leer, but right now it was just a distraction.

"This is fine," he answered.

"I'm glad. Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Coffee, please. Regular for me and decaf for my…" His what? Mate? Wife? Compelled to Love Me By the World's Most Evil Vampire Girlfriend?

"Companion," he finally answered.

"Sure thing, honey."

"Excuse me," he said as she turned away. "Does Candy still work here?"

"Candy?"

"She waited on our table six years ago, and I was just wondering if she was still here."

The hostess shook her head. "The only Candy I know of was before I came to work here. She walked out one day, took a bus to California, and got on some big deal singing show. She won. There's a picture of her with the manager up front by the cash register."

"Ah. Well, I am glad that she seems to have done well for herself."

The woman shrugged. "Hey, anyone who gets the hell out of here is doing well for themselves."

With that, she turned around and walked off towards the coffee pots. He was still watching her when Elena returned from the bathroom and slid into the opposite facing bench in the booth.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

She nodded as she put her napkin in her lap. "Fine. This place is still a dump. I swear I smelled a dead rat in the bathroom."

"Pregnancy can heighten your senses, especially your sense of smell. You might have been smelling something dead under the building," he told her.

"Great. Wonderful. Now I have a vampire nose," she complained.

"Oh, I doubt that. I could smell a dead rat under the liquor store from here if I wanted to."

"How do you stand it?"

"I just dial it down. You learn how after a while. When you're newly turned, smell can be overwhelming, but you learn to cope."

A waitress came over with their coffee and two menus.

"Here ya go. One regular and one decaf," she said, putting the mugs down with the decaf one in front of Elena. "I'll be back in a couple of minutes to take your order."

"Decaf? Seriously?" she said while he vamp-speed spiked his coffee with bourbon after the waitress walked away.

"Caffeine is bad for Baby," he replied reasonably.

"Yes. Along with herbal teas, unpasteurized dairy, fish, deli meat, cheese, undercooked eggs, nail polish, suntan lotion, and hair dye. And chocolate. Don't forget chocolate. If you try to take chocolate away from me, I _**will**_ hurt you," she snapped back.

He blinked and took a sip of his coffee before adding another shot of whiskey. "Duly noted."

"The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists states that moderate caffeine intake won't increase the risk of miscarriage or premature birth," she went on. "I'm allowed to have one cup of coffee a day. Really, Damon, I've already been through all of this with Stefan and Klaus. Don't make me fight for myself all over again."

Her exasperated tone made him perk his ears and listen because is was so like her. Obstinate and passionate and insufferable, but a glorious feminine force all the same. And considering that fighting for herself was exactly what he wanted her to do, he saw no reason to squash her spirit or dampen her fire.

She took his silence for disapproval and wilted, much to his dismay.

"I'm sorry. I'm being a bitch, aren't I?"

"No. No, not at all," he said. "You're allowed to speak your mind. You always were. In fact, I seem to remember not being able to keep you from speaking your mind even if I didn't want you to."

His words only made her wilt more, and she looked forlornly at her hands in her lap. "I know," she whispered, almost too softly for him to hear.

He sighed. "Elena. Elena, look at me."

He waited until she raised her eyes to meet his, but he kept their gazes at an oblique angle to make sure he wasn't influencing her.

"You are allowed to tell me how you feel. You are allowed to speak your mind. I _**want**_ you to speak your mind. The only thing I ask is that you not lie to me. We've always been honest with each other, and I don't want that to change. Understood?"

He reached his hand across the table and was cheered when she lifted one of her own to slip it into his. He closed his fingers around her palm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Understood," she said, giving him a small smile.

"It's okay. We're going to be okay," he promised, and in that moment he knew it to be true.

No matter what happened, they were going to be okay, and that was all that mattered. Sure, it was going to be an uphill climb, and he had to free his Elena from Klaus's compulsion, but she was in there. She was with him, and together they would do great things.

They were going to be unstoppable, and nothing, and no one, was going to get in their way.


	7. Chapter 7

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Now that the HoliDAZE are over, I should have more time to write. This is a long chapter. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter Seven

They got back in the car after they finished their meal, and Damon was determined that the rest of their trip home to Mystic Falls would be as uneventful and quick as possible. There were a lot of things he needed to do, and he couldn't do them until Elena was safely ensconced in her home. He had plans to make, people to talk to and herbs to find.

He'd already texted Gloria who still wasn't answering her phone. He was trying not to read too much into that, but he was getting worried. It was of great relief to him when she finally texted him back, letting him know that she was safe and would call him that evening. He'd also called the real estate management company that he used to look after the boarding house and the Gilbert house, and arranged for both places to be cleaned and aired out before they arrived.

With those burdens off his shoulders, he relaxed a bit and started planning what he was going to make Elena for dinner.

"You wanna stop at the grocery store before we go to the house?" he asked, when they exited the interstate. Mystic Falls had a nice supermarket, but there was a good quality organic market in Lynchburg that they could swing by on their way. He'd rather the herbs he was looking for be fresh and local.

"Sure," she answered.

"Any requests for dinner?"

She seemed to give his question a good bit of thought, and then turned her head to look at him shyly. "Umm, Italian?"

He smiled. "My specialty. How's this sound? Campanelle with olive oil, tomatoes, mushrooms and basil."

"Sounds perfect."

"With fresh baked bread."

"Mmmmmm, heavenly," she said with a sigh. "I'd forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

"That you can cook. Everyone has his or her thing. Klaus paints. Stefan writes. Rebekah shops. But you… you cook."

"And drink," he added, with a playful lilt to his voice.

"Well, of course. I don't know any vampires that don't drink their blood volume in booze every day."

He wanted to remind her that, prior to going off the bunny diet, Stefan didn't drink, but he thought the better of it. From everything he had seen and heard, Stefan was a sore subject, and it was probably best to just keep his mouth shut.

"Remember how you used to come over and cook dinner for us?" she asked, a fond look on her face, and he could tell by her tone that it was a purely rhetorical question. "Ric couldn't cook, and all I could really make was chili and fried eggs…"

"That's not true. You helped me in the kitchen lots of times."

"Yeah, but you were the one who knew what you were doing. I just did whatever you told me to do."

"You mean to tell me that all those months when we were cooking together, you didn't learn _**anything**_ from me?" he teased.

She smiled and shrugged. "Well, okay, you did teach me how to make bruschetta and Caprese salad."

"You were a champion tomato slicer."

She laughed and turned to face him, her shoulder pressed into the back of the seat. Damon noticed that she'd brought up her leg a bit and dropped one hand to cover her lower abdomen.

"Getting queasy?" he asked.

"No. I'm good. I don't even feel like I have to pee, amazingly."

"Well, I figured we'd stop at that natural foods market in Lynchburg and pick up some supplies." The look she gave him was one of quiet amusement, and he raised his eyebrow at her. "What's that look for?"

"A vampire who knows where there's a natural food store. What's wrong with this picture?"

"Hey, don't knock it. A diet of natural, organic food makes blood taste better. Some of my best meals came from Whole Foods."

Pre-compulsion Elena would have scowled and huffed at him for his off-color joke, but Stepford Elena just laughed - because, y'know, admitting that he hunted for victims in a natural foods market was _so_ funny.

"Well, at least it's an improvement over your diet of sorority girls."

"I've reached an age where I need to start worrying about my figure. Gotta watch my weight," he teased.

His joke fell flat as she frowned and looked away, her hair falling forward to hide her face.

"Will you still like me when I'm all fat and bloated?" she asked in a small voice.

"Elena… you know better than to ask me that question," he replied gently.

"But I'll be fat and ugly."

"You will always be beautiful to me. Besides, there's nothing about pregnancy that is ugly. Especially not how it increases a woman's bust size," he said with a leer and suggestive gesture.

He tossed the comment out to distract her from her brooding and it worked. She rolled her eyes and snorted.

"You're still a pig," she complained, but her lips were tugging up into a smile.

"Yup, and don't you forget it."

888888

They made it to the market by mid-afternoon, and he planned to keep the stop brief. He gave Elena a cart to push around and fill with stuff she wanted, while he took a hand-basket and headed for the produce section. The market had most of what he was looking for, and he was able to get everything he needed for dinner. The rest of what he was searching for, he could get at the grocery store in Mystic Falls tomorrow.

He found Elena in the bath and beauty aisle, perusing the selection of natural shampoos and soaps.

"I thought you used that herbal stuff," he commented, as she placed a shampoo and conditioner set in her cart.

"I found out that they test on animals, even though they say they don't."

He snorted. "A corporation lying. What a shock."

She shrugged and seemed distracted, which triggered his protective instincts.

"You okay?" he asked, stepping close to her.

She moved into his personal space, and his heart clenched.

"Yeah, it's just… weird y'know? To be going home. I'm so, so grateful. Thank you so much, Damon."

He brushed it off, trying to cover the fact that the raw sincerity in her voice just about did him in.

"It's my home, too. Remember?" he said, putting his hand-basket into the cart.

"Yeah, but you gave up Italy to come back here and take care of me."

She gave him a shy look, and he smiled as he ran a thumb over her cheek, reveling in the ability to touch her.

"Italy will still be there. Besides, I don't think Klaus would have let me refuse. He would have sent someone to vervain me and drag me back. At least by coming back of my own free will, I avoided a transatlantic trip chained in the cargo hold of a garbage trawl," he replied with his usual cynicism. He leaned in close and ran his fingers through a lock of her hair, just because he was a masochist, and he knew it would make her heart flutter. "And here with you is better than pretty much anywhere else without you."

It worked. She gasped and blushed, then gave him a tender look, together with a smile that made him ache. She reached up and gently took his hand in hers, threading her fingers into his as she turned and walked with him, still holding his hand, towards the checkout stands. He, being the hopeless sap that he was, obligingly pushed the cart with his free hand and let her lead him, as if he wouldn't willingly follow her anywhere.

He paid for the groceries, and they headed back out to the car. Mystic Falls was only another forty-five minutes away, and he felt himself growing increasingly anxious as they approached. He hadn't been back for almost six years, and he couldn't say that he was ready to return. If he'd had his way, it would be another few decades before he set foot in the small town again, but he didn't have a say in it. Elena had wanted to go home, and he hadn't had the heart to tell her no. After everything she'd been through, after everything he'd put her through, she deserved to have her baby where she wanted, and if Mystic Falls was that place, then so be it.

He heard Elena's small gasp and accelerated heart rate when they passed the welcome sign for Mystic Falls, and he saw her grip the door handle as if steeling herself for what was to come. He didn't say anything, instead reaching over to squeeze her hand briefly and offer silent comfort. It earned him another of her small, grateful smiles that made his own heart flutter, and he swore he could see his Elena looking back at him. Maybe she was only locked away when she was at odds with Klaus's compulsion. It was a theory he needed to explore.

They didn't speak, but he saw her brow begin to furrow as he took the turn that led towards her house instead of going to the boarding house, and her brow really furrowed when he turned onto her street and parked in front of her childhood home.

"What are we doing here?" she asked him, obviously very confused.

"You said you wanted to go home," he replied, looking at her.

"I can't come here. We don't own the house anymore. Jeremy sold it…" she stammered.

He held her gaze and raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to catch on. He saw the moment she realized what he was trying to tell her, and her eyes opened wide.

"You? You bought it?" she stated with surprise.

He shrugged and smirked at her. "It's a house belonging to a Founding Family. No telling what secrets it has buried in little caches in the walls and basement. Couldn't have it falling into the wrong hands, now could I?"

"And the lake house?"

"Junior Gilbert still owns it. He rents it out for extra cash," he informed her.

"Jeremy rents it out?"

He nodded. "Well, it goes through a real estate management company, but yeah, it makes him a good penny in the summer."

"How do you know?"

He gave her another look.

"You're taking care of him," she breathed, more to herself than to him.

"Let's just say I have a _**slight**_ guiding hand in his financial investment decisions. I might be a murdering psychopath, Elena, but no one ever accused me of not having a keen business acumen," he admitted, still smirking at her because her shock was just too satisfying for words.

"And did you get him into NYU too?" she questioned suddenly, and the fact that she ignored his murdering psychopath comment was not lost on him.

"What?" he blurted out, grimacing. "No, he got into NYU all on his own. I just made sure the bills were paid. How did you know about NYU and the house getting sold anyway? I figured Klaus wouldn't let you have any contact with your old life."

"He didn't, but he kept tabs on Jeremy. Y'know, just in case he needed to use him against me. After Bonnie and Caroline… Anyway, Tyler would tell me sometimes. He wasn't as brainwashed as the other hybrids," she explained, looking down at her hands.

"Good to know Mutt still has some backbone left."

"Thank you for taking care of my brother," she whispered.

He swallowed hard and tried to salvage his bravado. "Yeah, well, you're welcome."

"Who else have you looked after?" she asked, far too shrewd for her own good.

Now it was his turn to look away, suddenly uncomfortable in her all too seeing gaze.

"Damon," she said, her voice prompting him even as it chided.

"Oh, look at the time. Aren't you hungry? Didn't you want me to cook you Italian?"

"Damon…" she repeated, growling a little.

He capitulated, knowing her well enough to assume that – Stepford Elena or not – she wasn't going to let it go.

"Okay, I might have had something to do with Ric getting a job in the history department at Berkley. And maybe I pulled some strings to get the quarterback a scholarship at Clemson," he confessed.

He saw her take a few moments to process his answer, and he thought he was off the hook, until she shook her head slightly. "I can understand Ric, he was your friend. But why help Matt?"

He frowned and absently wiped a bit of lint off the cloth seat. "Do I have to have a reason?" he deflected.

Elena rolled her eyes at him. "It's you. There's always a reason. So spill. Why did you help Matt?"

He sighed. "I felt bad, okay? About Vicki. Turning her was one of my more dick moves. I never should have done it, and I apologized to your brother for it."

"Wait, you apologized to Jeremy for what you did to Vicki? When?"

He dreaded her reaction, but he answered anyway. "The night I broke his neck."

Her face fell. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

He saw her give in to her grief for just a second before rallying again. "That still doesn't explain why you felt bad about Vicki."

He was getting frustrated. He didn't like delving into his past like this. He'd been an asshole back then. Granted, he had come back to Mystic Falls with his switch mostly off. He'd learned that it was best to have it off when dealing with Stefan because then Stefan couldn't really hurt him. But then he'd seen Elena, and everything had changed.

Of course, his deepest, darkest secret was that he'd met Elena first, on the road by the Wickery Bridge, on the night he would later learn her parents died. He'd made her forget their first meeting because he hadn't been ready for people to know he was in town yet. He'd followed his brother, and he was still trying to figure out why Stefan had returned to Mystic Falls when, _supposedly_, he wasn't supposed to know about the comet, the tomb or Katherine's "imprisonment." (Ha! Ha! Ha! What a dupe he'd been.)

He'd been kicking himself for making her forget ever since, because she'd looked at him and done what no one else had done in so, so long. She'd _**seen**_ him. She'd been interested in him even then. He was sure it'd been his looks – what teenage girl wouldn't find him irresistible? – but, still… he could've been the one. He could have had her, but he'd let her go.

Oh, how he would change that one decision if he could. There was even a chance that, if he hadn't walked away that night, that _**he**_ would have been the one to be there on the bridge when her parents' car went into the water. And if that were so, he knew her parents would still be alive because, unlike Bunny Diet Stefan, _**he**_ would have been strong enough to save them all.

From what Stefan had told him, her dad had been conscious. He would have been easy enough. Rip off the car door, pull him out, and push him towards the surface. It wasn't that far to go. Then once he'd done that, he would have ripped off the passenger side doors, grabbed her mom and Elena, and carried them both to the surface. Easy as pie.

There was also a chance that he and Stefan would have saved the family together since Stefan had been there, too. In which case, everyone definitely would have survived because they both would have jumped in after that car. No matter what Stefan thought of him, he would _**not**_ have let a family drown if he'd been there. Then Elena would've known that he'd had a hand in saving her family, and when Stefan had started in on his usual "Damon's an evil, self-serving psychopath" BS, he liked to think that Elena would have shoved it back in his smug, little face.

But he hadn't. Instead he'd gone off to investigate how there could be a girl who looked just like Katherine, who had been a vampire and incapable of having children, and when he'd returned weeks later for the comet, he'd found out that Elena's parents had died, no thanks to his brother, and Stefan had moved in on Elena. He'd lost his chance.

For sure, back he was primarily focused on getting Katherine back and riding off into the sunset with his one true love, but the pain of realizing that he could have been there, that he could have saved Elena's family and gotten one up on his brother, had sent him over the edge into full-on asshole mode. Especially once Stefan had snared Elena and had begun turning her against him.

He couldn't tell Elena that, however. No one knew that he'd met Elena that night, not even Stefan, and he couldn't bear to tell her now. What would he even say? "I met you first, and I could've saved your parents if I hadn't been an idiot and walked away"?

"Damon?" Elena's said, her voice breaking him out of his memories, and he looked at her.

Stepford Elena had convinced herself that she'd overstepped her bounds and pissed off her vamp, and she was now looking uncertain and contrite.

"I'm sorr-" she began.

"Don't. Don't apologize. You haven't done anything wrong. You asked me why I felt bad about Vicki and why I took care of Donovan. When I came back to Mystic Falls, I was in a bad place. My switch was off, I was haranguing my brother, and I was an asshole. I admit it. I had a lot of shit going on, and I was lashing out at everyone. Vicki was collateral damage. I turned her because I was bored, and I wanted to piss off my brother. I shouldn't have done it, and I regretted it right away. After I found out she was Jeremy's girl and Donovan's sister, I realized that I'd hurt people who were important to you, and I felt worse. Taking care of the quarterback and getting him a scholarship so he wouldn't be stuck in this go-nowhere town, and have an opportunity to make something of himself, was the least I could do. I also arranged for him to "inherit" some money from a long, lost cousin so his bills would be paid, too."

He glanced at her and saw her looking at him with clear eyes, the eyes that had always seen straight into his soul, and it laid him bare.

"That's why I did it. I was making amends for a wrong I had done him. It doesn't make up for it. It doesn't bring his sister back, but it's something."

"He doesn't know though, does he? None of them do."

"No."

She reached over and took his hand, squeezing lightly. "Thank you. We never gave you any reason to take care of us, but you did so anyway. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

"Yeah… well… I'm sorry, too. For everything."

She sniffled and he saw her eyes were wet, but full of gratitude, and he was certain that it was his Elena holding his hand, stroking her thumb across his knuckles. The knife twisted into his heart, but it was a good pain. It was the kind of pain that could break you and remake you.

"Let's go inside. We have stuff that needs to be refrigerated," he said, unable to bear the raw honesty between them any longer. He liked to try to keep soul-searching sessions to five minutes or less.

She nodded and released his hand to unbuckle her seatbelt.

"I'll open the door. Is the spare key where it used to be?" she asked.

"Yep," he replied, getting out of the car and opening the rear door to get the groceries.

Elena had already found the spare key, and she was waiting for him on the porch when he walked up with the bags. Setting foot on the old wood, looking at the swing, and remembering all that had transpired there, almost made him stumble when it all came rushing back. How, on his last day there, after killing Ric and Jeremy, how he'd waited for them to revive while he drank bourbon and cried, mourning the loss of his pseudo-family.

Elena opened the door and he followed her inside, and it was like walking into the past. Junior Gilbert hadn't changed anything. All the furniture was the same, the carpet, the paint, and the pictures on the walls. He hadn't even updated the TV and sound system, and Damon felt another spasm of pain, but he ignored it as took the groceries into the kitchen, moving past Elena, who was standing in the living room.

He set the bags down on the island and put away the milk and butter, and began gathering the things he would need for dinner. He was contemplating the best way to cut the fresh basil – if he should just chop it or do a chiffonade, when he realized that Elena had never come into the kitchen nor was she still in the living room. His Elena-sense started going off, so he put the knife down and went in search of her.

He found her in her bedroom, sitting on her bed, clutching her teddy bear as tears streamed down her face. Her room looked exactly the same as the day she'd left it, right down to the unwashed laundry in the basket. He would have to have a word with Junior Gilbert about proper housekeeping skills, but for now, pregnant Elena was in full meltdown mode. He sat beside her, taking her into his arms and holding her as he stroked her hair and shushed her. His cooing only seemed to make her cry harder, and soon she was sobbing into his chest. He held her tighter, rocking a little bit and whispering into her ear.

"What is it? What can I do? Tell me how to make it better," he begged. He couldn't stand to hear her cry like this, to see her in such despair.

She shook her head and sank further into his arms, dropping the bear to the floor so she could fist her hands into his shirt. He just let her weep, realizing that it was the long overdue catharsis that she needed, and he hugged her until she had cried herself out.

"Better?" he asked, when her tears lessened and she was down to the occasional sniffle.

She nodded and slowly loosened her death grip on his shirt. When she pulled back, her face was blotchy and her eyes were puffy and red, but she was still breathtakingly beautiful to him. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and wiped the last tears away with his thumbs.

"Thank you," she said, then dropped her eyes to his shirt. "I got your shirt all snotty."

He shrugged. "I'll disinfect it later. Y'know, to kill the girl cooties."

She chuckled and slapped his arm lightly. "Brat."

"Yes?"

She smiled for a moment, then her face fell and she hugged him. He tucked her face into the crook of his neck and hugged her back, holding her as tightly as he dared. The feel of her in his arms, in _**this**_ room, was almost too much for him to bear. It was like someone had staked him and set him on fire, but yet he couldn't bring himself to run.

"I can't stay here, Damon. Please, it's just too much…" she confessed.

He understood completely. "Okay. Yes, sure. Of course. We'll go to the boarding house. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you here."

"No, it was sweet. Thank you. Maybe… maybe in a little while, after I get used to being back, maybe we can come back here again," she said, pulling back to look at him.

"Okay. Whatever you want, whatever you need," he agreed, meaning every word.

"My god, how can anyone say you are selfish and self-centered? You're the most selfless person I know," she said, gazing up at him with wide eyes.

"I'm a dick, Elena. You know it, and I know it. I'm just less of a dick sometimes."

She shook her head. "No. You can't fool me anymore with that. I see you now."

There was silence between them for a few heavy moments, full of everything that had happened between them in this house and this room. He was the first to break eye contact, gently prying himself out of her arms when he couldn't stand it anymore.

"C'mon. You're hungry. I'm hungry. I haven't started dinner downstairs yet. Let's pack up and go to the boarding house," he told her, rising to his feet.

"Do you need to stop by the hospital and get some blood bags?" she asked as she stood as well.

He thought about it for a moment. "Might be a good idea. I just need enough to last me until I can go to the blood bank in Lexington."

She took his hand again, and he allowed it. "Okay, then, let's go. There are too many ghosts."

He nodded in agreement and followed her as she led the way back downstairs. Together they gathered up the groceries, putting them back in the bags, and then they headed back out to the rental car. Elena waited for him while he locked up the house and put the spare key in its hiding place. She sat in the car when he slipped into the hospital to steal half a dozen blood bags, which should be enough to keep him for a few days as long as he didn't get into any fights or do something else that would require him to use his vampire healing.

They drove up to the boarding house fifteen minutes later, and it was his turn to walk into his own house of ghosts. The cleaning crew had been there, and at least the place looked like it was lived in. The sheets had been pulled from all of the furniture on the first floor, and the rooms smelled of Pledge and Murphy's oil soap. He took the groceries into the kitchen and stowed them before going back out to retrieve his and Elena's bags. He carried the luggage upstairs, leaving Elena's suitcase and gym bag in the hall while he deposited his bag in his room. It had been cleaned, too, and the protective sheet taken off the bed. He spared a moment to look wistfully at the bed. It was his favorite after all.

"Where should I put my things?" Elena asked him, and he turned to see her leaning against the doorframe of his room. The last time she had been in there had been the day after her birthday party, when she had come to him with accusations and entreaties to go with her to Tennessee.

He shrugged. "Anywhere you like. There's six other bedrooms in the house. You can have your choice."

She gave him an odd look, but nodded. "Okay."

"Pick one you want to be the nursery, too, though I'm thinking the smaller room in the west wing would be best. It gets the most sunlight," he offered helpfully.

"Thanks. I'll look at it."

"Meet me downstairs when you're ready or I'll call you when dinner's done, whichever comes first."

"Okay, thanks," she said over her shoulder, and he heard her suitcase rolling down the hall. He noted that she was _**not**_ headed in the direction of Stefan's room and silently gloated, until he realized that she was heading for the bedroom next to his.

He shook his head, wondering what he was getting himself into, and then checked the status of his bathroom. He had a mind to take a long, hot bath later, and he wanted to see if the tub had been properly cleaned. It had, and he had to say that he was pleased with the job the management company had done. From his brief glance at the grounds, it looked like they'd done a fair job with the outside as well.

He left his room and headed downstairs to the kitchen where Elena found him ten minutes later sautéing the mushrooms and onions while water heated on the stove to boil.

"Just the person I was looking for. I need a champion tomato slicer. You up to the task?" he asked teasingly.

"Oh, I dunno, I might be out of practice," she kidded back with a smile.

He tossed a tomato at her, and she caught it. "Nah, it's like riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget how. Knives are in the butcher block on the counter."

She chose a big chef knife and set about slicing the tomato on the cutting board he'd already laid out on the granite-topped kitchen island. He put two more in front of her to cut and went back to stirring the mushrooms and onions. He had the stove on medium-low, wanting the vegetables to sweat.

"How about I make risotto for tomorrow night's dinner," he offered, slathering a homemade garlic-butter mix onto Italian bread and slipping it into the oven.

"Sounds wonderful."

"Great."

They cooked in pleasant companionship, and he was reminded of the last time they'd made chili together in her kitchen. They moved around each other like old friends, carefully choreographing their steps so as not to get in each other's way. It was familiar and friendly, and he allowed himself to revel in it. This was how he'd always hoped things would be between them: happy, relaxed and normal… with a fair amount of very hot and satisfying sex added in, of course.

Little Damon woke up from his slumber, and he had to remind himself of all the times she'd virtually kicked him in the balls to settle him down again. It annoyed him that he could be such a lovesick sap, but that wasn't Elena's fault. She'd never asked him to love her the way that he did, and she had no control over what her scent did to him. He was a big boy, and he would just have to learn how to deal. He had at least another five months of this, and he would go crazy if he didn't get a handle on it soon.

The water boiled, and soon he was dumping the campanelle into the olive oil with the sautéed vegetables, and giving it a quick toss. He brought the hot food to the dining room table while Elena carried the salad and garlic bread. They sat across from each other at the table, and she served him a portion of the pasta while he poured them both glasses of light white wine (a small one for her in deference to her condition, but also honoring her wishes from earlier) and also gave himself a glass of warmed blood in a tumbler. They clinked glasses and began to eat.

"Oh my God, this is so good," Elena said between bites.

He smiled and took a half bow in his chair. "Why thank you, Miss Elena. I am glad you like my cooking."

"You have to know I'm keeping you."

"I dunno. I've been told I'm impossible to live with," he joked.

"I've lived with Rebekah. Trust me, no one is as bad as she is."

His easy smile faded from his face as the guilt almost made him choke on his food, and he looked down at his plate. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't all bad. Rebekah could be decent when she was in one of her good moods. Klaus would let her go shopping, and she'd be happy for days. Sometimes she'd even take me along, and we'd indulge in serious retail therapy together."

"I can only imagine the damage the two of you could do," he commented.

"You have no idea. One day we spent over twelve thousand dollars in a single afternoon, though most of that was jewelry Rebekah bought."

He winced, his frugal sensibilities screaming in protest. "Don't do that to me, okay? I'll give you my platinum card, but only if you promise not to go crazy."

She shook her head. "I won't. Promise. But I will need new clothes soon. The ones I have are already getting too tight for me."

"Understood and expected. You are _expecting_, after all," he said playfully.

"Oh, ha ha. Who's the comedian now?"

He smirked and saluted her with his tumbler.

They finished dinner, and she insisted on helping him with the clean-up. Once they were done washing the dishes and pots, he built a fire in the living room hearth, and they sat together on the couch for a while. They talked, mostly about his travels, and he brewed the peppermint-ginger tea for her nausea. It was one of the most pleasant evenings he'd had in a very long time, and he savored every minute of it.

When Elena began to get tired around ten o'clock, he encouraged her to go to bed. After she went up, he went to his room and ran himself a bath while he texted Gloria, who hadn't called. She texted back that she was busy and would call him in the morning. He shrugged and tossed his phone on the sink counter as he stripped and slid into his tub. He had a good, long soak, luxuriating in the pleasure of it. He loved baths, complete with lots of bubbles and scented oils, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. He felt all the tension in his body relax, staying in the tub until the water cooled, and then he drained it, gave it a quick cleaning (soap and oil scum was easier to clean before it had been allowed to sit too long) and showered to wash off the soap and shampoo his hair.

By the time he was finished with his ablutions, he was content and glad to be home despite the circumstances. He slipped on a pair of boxers and got into bed, noting that the cleaning crew had put on fresh sheets. The mattress and pillows felt so good as he lay back, sighing and stretching out. Little Damon stirred again, and this time he indulged himself in an erotic fantasy involving Carmen, one of the signoras he'd left behind in Italy. He tried not to be too surprised when Carmen's face morphed into Elena's right before he climaxed, but he knew that it didn't bode well for his mental health.

'_Maybe I should give myself a lobotomy with a hammer claw,'_ he thought darkly, as he cleaned himself up.

His orgasm had made him sufficiently sleepy, and he settled back into his bed, hugging a pillow and closing his eyes.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he suddenly snapped awake, all his senses on high alert. Someone was in his room. His eyes focused on the slight figure standing beside his bed in the dark, and he inwardly groaned as the scent wafted into his nostrils.

"Elena?" he asked, sitting up to turn on his bedside lamp.

She blinked at the light, but didn't move. She was dressed in a set of flannel pajamas, which was something he had never seen her wear to bed before.

"Elena?" he asked again, wondering if she had developed a habit of sleepwalking over the last six years.

She shook her head and seemed to come out of whatever trance she'd been in.

"Can I… can I stay here with you?" she requested, looking uncertain and shy. "It's just that I'm not used to being alone and being here, it's…"

She trailed off and looked at him with hopeful eyes.

'_This woman will be the death of me,'_ he thought. "Elena…"

"I know you're not ready for, you know, _**us**_, and I'm not asking for that. I just… I can't sleep, and I was hoping…"

She stammered, and did that thing where she tucked her hair behind her ear, and he was a goner. He sighed, giving in, because he really didn't want to be away from her even if having her in his bed was going to make it pretty much impossible not to want her. He only hoped he could avoid an instant replay of this morning because now there were no maids around to snack on.

'_At least she put on the granny PJ's, but that top is a button-up... No! Do __**not**__ go there,'_ he chided himself as Little Damon began to wake up again. He squelched it with memories of Elena dead on the night of the sacrifice; one of the worst nights of his life, second only to the night he'd left her with Klaus.

He flipped back the covers on his right side and invited her in. "Come here," he said, gesturing for her to join him.

The smile she gave him was beatific, and she hurried to comply, sliding in beside him and wrapping her arm around his waist.

"Thank you," she said, snuggling close as he laid them both down and turned off the light.

"Mmm hmm," he murmured, flipping the covers back over them and tucking her into the crook of his arm. "Think you can sleep now?"

Her hand came up to rest on his chest, and he felt her leg twine with his. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning.

"Yeah. I think so," she whispered sleepily.

"I'm glad. Good night, Elena." '_Please, please, please go to sleep and stop rubbing against me.'_

"Good night, Damon."

"Sweet dreams."

"You too."

He heard her sigh, then felt her fall asleep a few minutes later. He stayed awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering how in the world he was going to survive this without going insane, until his own exhaustion caught up with him, and he drifted off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric and Layla Reyne

* * *

Chapter Eight

Damon woke to the sound of birds outside his bedroom, and the feel of a warm, human body cuddled up to his own. Elena's scent was so strong, he could feel it clogging his pores, but this time he was ready for it, so he didn't wake in an uncontrolled blood lust. Still, Little Damon was standing at attention because, usually when he woke with a woman sharing his bed, morning sex ensued, and Little Damon, very much a creature of habit, was getting with the program.

'_Sorry, buddy,'_ Damon thought, feeling the ache in his balls, even as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. '_Not getting any this morning.'_

Elena, as proof that she was his penance sent down to make him pay for his sins, made the most alluring, little moan and curled her fingers against his chest. He bit back a groan and tried to think of anything that would help him get through the next ten minutes without throwing his self-control to the wind. Then Elena made another sound, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

'_That was not a happy sound,'_ he thought, his brow creasing.

He was about to wake her, thinking she was having a nightmare, when her body jerked like a dreaming cat. She made more small noises, but they sounded more like groans of exertion than fear, and he paused, waiting. The last time she was just waking from sleep, his Elena had been in control for a few moments, so it was possible that she was trying to break through again.

He waited, silent and still, until she finally opened her eyes. He looked at her, afraid to say anything at first, and tried to figure out who was looking back at him.

"Damon," she whispered in a voice that had obviously taken some effort, and he nearly grinned. It was her. His Elena had awakened first.

"Elena," he whispered back.

The start of a smile touched her lips, and his heart melted. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her and tell her it was all going to be okay, but first things had to come first. He had a chance now, and he couldn't waste it. He had to ask her permission so he knew what was allowed and what wasn't.

"Elena," he began, waiting until he had her attention again. She looked still half-asleep, but he somehow knew she was listening. "You're coming on strong, and I'm no saint. Is sex okay?"

He saw her process his words, her eyes growing serious and thoughtful, and he waited anxiously for her response. Her answer would frame how he would have to behave for the next five months, and it would tell him what he had to do to stay sane in this whole fucked up situation. Half of him dreaded her reply, because if she said no, his life would be one long, cold shower until he could break the compulsion. He doubted Stepford Elena would give up trying to seduce him.

After what felt like an eternity, Elena's mouth opened, as she started to speak. He held the breath he didn't need, waiting for her answer, but then his phone rang. The sound broke the spell, and he almost screamed when he saw his Elena go scurrying away as Stepford Elena awakened.

'_No!'_ he wanted to cry, but it was too late.

Cursing and vowing painful death to the caller if it was something stupid, he rolled and reached for his phone. It was Gloria, finally calling back.

'_About fucking time.'_

"Damon?" he heard Elena ask.

He looked at her and gave her a reassuring smile as he answered the call.

"About time you called back," he said, trying to sound calm and upbeat.

"I take it from your tone that you have Elena with you," the witch replied, making him smile. Gloria knew him so well. It almost made him wish that he could have loved her the way he loved Elena. She would have made a good vampire's mate, putting aside the whole witch thing.

"Just a second," he told her, then turned to Stepford Elena. "I'm sorry the phone woke you. I have to take this call, but you try to get some more sleep, okay?"

She gave him the sexiest smile he'd ever seen her give anyone and teasingly ran a finger down his arm. "Not tired anymore. Come back to bed soon?"

He bit back a moan because she'd just upped the ante, and his Elena hadn't given him an answer.

"If you're ready to get up, I'll make pancakes," he replied, pulling away from her. She gave him a disappointed pout, but he just smirked to hide his anguish and blew her a kiss as he got out of bed. He snagged a clean shirt as he passed his dresser and slipped it on, buttoning it up with one hand.

He waited until he was out in the hall and headed towards the kitchen before he addressed Gloria again.

"Back."

"How bad is it?" the witch asked him.

"Bad. Klaus is one fucked up asshole."

"I know. That's why I had to get away from him. I'm selling the bar and moving out of Chicago."

'_Wanna come to Mystic Falls?'_ he almost suggested. "Where will you go?"

"Not sure yet, but I'll let you know when I do."

"You knew what Klaus had done. You left me the warning and the ingredients for the enhanced vervain and the sense-dulling potion. You knew Elena was pregnant," he accused, practically stomping down the hall.

There was a long pause, and then Gloria sighed. "Yes, I knew."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice betraying his hurt.

"What could you have done? Klaus had made up his mind. He'd already killed anyone willing to stand against him. I figured if you knew what he was planning, you'd try to stop him and die in the process."

"He compelled her to lie there and take it!" he seethed.

"I know. Believe me, I know. I couldn't stop it. All I could do was cast the spell to enhance her scent."

"You did what? Why?" he demanded, shocked that she would put Elena in such danger.

"Because it was the only way to get her away from him. I know Klaus. If her scent was driving the rest of his little pack crazy, he'd send her away. I was the one who suggested to Miriam that you would be able to tolerate her smell," Gloria explained, and he had to concede that it had been a brilliant ploy.

"You know Miriam?"

"She is a student of mine. Klaus found her while you and I were travelling together. She's been keeping me informed."

He shook his head as he entered the kitchen. Witches were such wily creatures.

"Well, your crafty, little plan worked. Klaus gave her to me. We're back in Mystic Falls, but there's a catch. She's been compelled. I need to know how to break it without vervain," he stated.

"How do you know she's been compelled? What does the compulsion entail?"

"Let's just say she's picking out curtains and china patterns," he replied, grimacing.

There was another long pause before Gloria answered. "I'm sorry. I know that's all you've ever wanted. It must to be very difficult for you."

"I'm dealing. Just tell me how to break the compulsion because the very scent of vervain makes her puke her guts out."

He tucked the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he gathered the ingredients for his famous pecan-blueberry pancakes, and pulled out the griddle, giving it a quick wash as it hadn't been used in over six years.

"Without vervain, it's tricky, especially because she is pregnant. Most of the alternatives shouldn't be used on a pregnant woman. You may have to tolerate it until she gives birth."

"Yeah, that's five months away. Not happening. I was thinking maybe mugwort would do it?" he offered, retrieving a mixing bowl from a cabinet and plucking a whisk from the utensil crock.

"Musk root is better, but it'll still take a while. It has to build up in her system, and it's not as effective as vervain. The results can be sporadic."

He put the griddle and the whisk down and took the phone in his hand again as he paced the kitchen. He couldn't cook and talk at the same time, not when he was making pancakes. He did, however, start a pot of coffee brewing in the coffee maker.

"What about combining musk root with peppermint and Indian pennywort?"

"Not the pennywort. It can cause stomach upset. Use lemongrass instead."

"Okay. I was also going to burn some rosemary and frankincense oil."

"Burn coltsfoot, too. If you can strengthen and clear her mind enough, she might break the compulsion herself," Gloria agreed.

"Yeah, maybe."

Damon didn't think either of really them believed that. Klaus was a master mind-manipulator, but maybe he could increase the frequency and length of his Elena's moments of control.

"Once she has the baby, you can bring out the heavy mojo and break it. Though if it's a deep compulsion, you may have to do it manually, and that can get dangerous."

"What do you mean by break it manually?" he asked, confused. His mind was whirring, and he stopped pacing to listen to her answer.

"There are ways to gain access to a person's mind. To go in and reorder their memories…"

"I've done that, but only in dreams," he told her.

"I know, which is why I think you could do it. You open a channel and go in. Once you find where the compulsion has altered her mind, you remove the ties and set her free."

"I've never done anything like that."

"It's not much different than going into someone's mind to give them a dream. It involves walking the same path, only a little more forcefully."

"So you think I can do it?"

"Yes, if the pathway is opened, I think you are strong enough to go in and break it manually, but it's an option of last resort, Damon. The herbs that open those channels are not to be used lightly."

"Magic mushrooms and peyote," he guessed.

"No. Both of those induce astral states. You want her grounded firmly in her body. For this, you want Belladonna or absinthe, but the absinthe needs to be home brewed. The commercial stuff is useless."

"I'll need to know how to do that when the time comes."

"I'll help you. How is Elena otherwise? Miriam told me she was having a lot of problems with morning sickness."

"Uh, yeah. She was having trouble on the drive here. I showed her the pressure point on her wrist and brewed the mint-ginger tea. So far, it's helping."

"I'll text you the recipe for the tea I brew. It has a few other things in it to balance hormones and settle the stomach."

"Thanks."

"How are _**you**_ doing?"

"I'm fine. Just peachy," he managed to say with a steady voice.

"Damon…"

"I'm fine, really. I'm dealing."

"I know you better than that. If she's bonding with you, that has to be driving you crazy."

He resisted for a moment longer, but then gave up. It was Gloria, and he could trust her. "She's Stepford Elena, okay? The Vampire's Girlfriend edition. She's not afraid of blood or me being a vampire. Hell, she even called housekeeping to send someone for me to feed on, and she didn't bat an eye yesterday morning when I lost control and almost killed the maid. She's making advances towards me. Gloria, she straddled me and put her tongue down my throat! If she'd had her way, I would have fucked her into next week by now," he confessed.

"Ouch. I can only imagine what that did to you."

He huffed and started pacing again. "She sexy and strong, and she _**sees**_ me. She's everything I ever wanted or dreamed of, but none of it is real! And then, sometimes, my Elena breaks through, and I try to talk to her, but she can't stay in control for long. I'm trying to stay in control, and do things the way I know Elena would want me to, but she's really screwing with my head, and it's driving me nuts."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the pain he was suffering almost too keenly for words.

"I love her, Gloria. I never stopped loving her. She's everything to me," he said softly.

"I know."

"And now… to have her, yet not have her. It's really messing up my mind."

"It has to be. I am sorry that Klaus did this to her. Keep brewing the sense-dulling tea. It'll help."

He shook his head in response even though Gloria couldn't see him. "Can't. I need to be on my best game for this because God knows what else Klaus has planned. He's a sick bastard, and he did this on purpose to torture me."

"Yes, he did. He wants to get to you."

"Well, it's working, but I'll be damned if I'll dance to his tune or let Elena dance to it. I'll do everything I can not to give that asshole the satisfaction of breaking me. I've been tortured by the best of them. I'll get through this."

"I know you will. It's just a matter of how many pieces you'll be in when it's all over, and how many people you'll kill before you're able to pull yourself back together," Gloria answered, her voice resigned.

"I'm not like that anymore," he insisted.

"You try not to be, but where Elena's involved, I've learned all bets are off."

"I won't. I won't lose it and become like my brother. He's Klaus's lap dog and Rebekah's boy toy. I'll stake myself before I let that happen to me," he vowed, surprised that he actually meant it.

"Stefan never had the strength to tame his dark side. His suppression of it only made it worse in the end because he never developed control. He lets Klaus compel him because it's easier. That way he doesn't have to face himself," Gloria said.

"Anything happens to Klaus, and Stefan's going to go off the deep end, isn't he?" he asked with concern. Stefan might be a royal douche, but he was still his brother.

"Maybe not. Rebekah keeps him grounded. They're both immortal teenagers, but she's more in control than he is, and she does love him in her own way. I don't think she'd let him get that far gone."

"Well, you know Barbie Klaus better than I do. I hope you're right, because scent-enhancing spell or not, I don't think Stefan is safe around Elena, and I won't let him near her."

He heard Gloria chuckle. "Your protective instincts kicked in the moment you smelled her, didn't they?"

A warning light went off in his head, and he frowned. "Why? Was that a spell, too?"

"God no, honey. That was all you. But I did have my suspicions as to how you would react. I'm glad I was right."

He ground his teeth and bit back a growl. "You still should have told me."

"I saved your life."

"A heads up would have been nice."

"I gave you as much warning as I could. If I'd told you any more, you would have gone tearing off to the rescue. You wouldn't have been able to stop yourself. That girl is your North Star. You'd do anything for her."

It was true, and he knew it. As much as he wanted to be upset with Gloria for keeping him in the dark, she was right. If he'd known ahead of time, he would have tried to stop it, and Klaus would have killed him outright. At least now, he had Elena, he was there to protect her, and there was hope he could break the compulsion.

And speaking of Elena, his vampire ears were picking up the pitter-patter of bare feet coming towards the kitchen.

"I gotta go," he said. "But I want to talk more with you about this in a few days. I'll have a better idea then about what I'm up against."

"Okay. In the meantime, I'll text you the recipe for the morning sickness tea."

"Thanks. And thanks… for everything else."

"Hang in there, baby. You'll be okay."

He smiled to himself. There were few people in the world who could call him "baby," but Gloria was one of them.

"Thanks. I'll call you next week."

"Bye, honey. You take care of yourself. Be safe."

"I will. You be safe, too."

"Always," the witch said, and then the line went dead.

Her timing was perfect because Elena entered the kitchen a few seconds later. She hadn't dressed, but at least she was still in the granny PJs, and she'd even put on a robe. He turned away from her as she came in, focusing on mixing the pancake batter as he took milk and eggs out of the refrigerator.

"Morning!" he said cheerfully.

"Gah! This floor is cold," she complained.

"That's what you get for walking on tile in bare feet," he scolded.

She huffed and sat on the counter next to the sink, letting her legs dangle. "I can't find my slippers. I thought I'd packed them, but no go."

"Then we'll have to get you a new pair when we go out later today," he offered, whisking the eggs and milk into the batter. "How's your stomach this morning?"

She held up her hand to show him that she was pressing on the pressure point. "A little queasy, but this works wonders. Thank you."

He set the griddle to warming and put a kettle on the stove to boil water for her tea.

"Whatchya making?" she asked, swinging her legs like an impatient child.

"Pecan-blueberry pancakes."

"Mmmmm, sounds wonderful."

He flashed her a grin and chopped the pecans before dumping them into the batter with a cup of the fresh blueberries he'd bought at the market yesterday.

"Did you sleep well?" he questioned, testing the griddle temp by dropping a small dollop of batter on the hot surface.

"Yeah. I slept fine… once I was with you. Thank you for letting me stay with you last night."

"Planning on making it a habit?" he fished, giving her a raised-eyebrow.

She dipped her head and smiled shyly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "If you want me to. I… I feel so much safer when I'm with you, Damon."

He made a sound of agreement and nodded as he determined that the griddle was hot enough and began ladling out the batter in neat portions. He knew she felt safer when she was with him, and he knew he felt better knowing she was right there. The question was if he could stand sleeping next to her without acting on his desires if she turned him down.

"So you'll let me stay with you?" she prompted after a few moments of heavy silence.

"Let's play it by ear, okay? You may get to the point where you feel safe sleeping by yourself," he answered, taking the boiling water off the stove and pouring it into a mug with a tea infuser filled with the peppermint-ginger tea blend.

He handed her the mug and set the timer for the tea to steep. She gave him a disappointed look, but nodded.

"I get it. You need your space."

"Yes, but let's not forget that you're going to need space, too. Pretty soon you're going to be getting heavier and more uncomfortable. It'll be harder for you to sleep, and you'll be restless when you do. You're not going to want someone else in bed with you, snoring and stealing the covers," he stated, flipping the pancakes with a quick flick of his wrist.

She snorted. "Vampires don't snore when they sleep. They don't even breathe," she countered, rolling her eyes.

He grinned. "Noticed that, did you?"

"I knew that from sleeping with Stefan. But he didn't hog the covers. You, on the other hand, I swear you take up more room than is physically possible. That bed is big enough to sleep six, yet you still managed to kick me at least twice last night."

He gave her his best "who me?" look. "I'm part cat. I have _grandiosity of spirit_."

She laughed and shook her head while he flipped the pancakes onto a warmed plate, then she hopped down from the counter and retrieved plates and silverware from the cupboard. She followed him into the dining room where he set the pancakes down, and then he zipped back to the kitchen for butter, syrup (the real stuff), and the coffee. The timer for her tea beeped so he took the tea infuser out, tossing it in the sink, and brought that to the table with him, too.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" she asked him, as he forked two steaming pancakes onto her plate.

"Grocery shopping, then the post office, and then I thought it might be a good idea for you to look into finding a doctor here in Mystic Falls."

"Doctor?"

He almost spilled the coffee he was pouring as he jerked his head up to look at her.

"Don't tell me that you haven't been going to a doctor to monitor your pregnancy."

She shrugged and slathered butter on her pancakes. "Klaus said women have been having babies without doctors for centuries."

"Yes, and they also have a nasty tendency to _**die**_ in childbirth. Tell me you were planning on having a midwife at least."

She frowned and looked down at her food. "Miriam was going to do it."

He turned his eyes to the heavens and prayed for patience. There was no point in being angry, and it would be wrong for him to take his fury out on her. Klaus not wanting her to see a doctor made sense, but it was still seriously stupid. Unbeknownst to most people, he did have a fair amount of medical knowledge, and he knew pregnancy was a dangerous prospect for even the healthiest of women.

"Okay, okay," he said, regrouping. "_**I**_ think you should be seen by a doctor. This is your first pregnancy. You should be monitored. You should be on pre-natal vitamins…"

"I have vitamins," she interrupted.

"Where? I didn't see you take them yesterday."

"They're in my bag. I don't like them. They make me sick."

"Were you taking them on an empty stomach?"

"Sometimes," she admitted.

"That's why. Where are they now?"

"In the outside pocket of my rollaway bag."

"Okay," he replied, and vamp-sped up to the room she'd chosen. He was back in the dining room with the bottle of prenatal vitamins in less than a minute.

"Here, take these after you're finished eating," he told her, placing two pills on the table.

She eyed them warily, but put the vitamins on the edge of her plate so she wouldn't forget them. He sat across from her and served himself some pancakes and coffee.

"These are delicious, by the way. Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome. I've been told I flip a mean pancake."

"This girl thinks so."

"Thanks. Duly noted."

They ate in silence for a minute or two, and then he saw Elena take her vitamins.

"So? How do you think I should go about finding a doctor?" she asked. "I don't think I want to just look up obstetricians on-line. You have to admit, my circumstances are… unique."

"You're human. Baby's human. Should be a normal, human pregnancy."

She gave him a look that told him she thought he was smoking something, and he gave in. "Okay, okay. Maybe not. Doppelganger mojo and all. I'll make some calls. Ask around."

"Who was that on the phone this morning?" she questioned.

"Gloria. She finally called me back," he answered absently, snagging another pancake off the plate. They really were very good.

"Gloria?" Elena repeated, and the tone of her voice made him pause. "You still talk to her?"

Somewhere in his head the robot from _Lost in Space_ was shrieking "Danger Will Robinson!", and he did his best to hide his sudden wariness. He wasn't speaking to his Elena. This was Stepford Elena, and her tone told him that she was fishing for information.

"Sometimes. Not often, but I left her a message yesterday about your morning sickness. She is going to text me a recipe for the tea she uses."

"Ah. That's great. You'll have to tell her thank you for me."

"I will."

He quickly finished his pancake and began gathering up the dirty dishes, guzzling the last of his coffee as he stood up.

"If you're finished, I'll take your plate. Why don't you go up and get a shower and get dressed. I'll wash these and take a shower myself. Then we'll go out when we're both ready. Sound okay?" he said.

She shoved the last of her pancake in her mouth and finished off her tea before handing him her dirty plate and mug.

"Thanks."

"No problem," he assured her with a smile.

He left her sitting at the table, bad manners he knew, but he needed to get away from her piercing eyes and unasked questions.

'_So she __**is**__ a spy for Klaus. I wonder if she has his number on speed-dial in her phone.'_ The most logical thing to do would be to destroy the phone and force her to get a new one, but that might raise suspicions, and there was no telling if Klaus had hardwired his number into Stepford Elena's brain. He could destroy as many phones as he wanted, and still not succeed in cutting her off from the Original Were-Asshole.

Obviously, there were some subjects that triggered her information-gathering mode. Lucky for him, he could spot a mole a mile away so she wouldn't be able to pull one over on him. Still, knowing he would have to edit everything he said and did with her sucked, making it all the more important for him to loosen Klaus's hold on Elena's mind as soon as possible.

He quickly jotted down a list of the essential oils he needed for the aromatherapy part of his plan and shoved the scrap of paper into the front pocket of his shirt. There was a new age-y shop (or at least there had been) downtown that would probably have everything he needed. If not, then he'd have to make a trip back to Lynchburg.

He washed the dishes and scrubbed the griddle, leaving everything to dry in the dish drainer, then he snagged a blood bag and went to take a shower. He half-expected to find Elena in his bedroom, but he didn't, and he heard her moving about in the room next door. He wasted no time in washing and dressing, and he was showered and ready to go in less than half an hour. He was just finishing buttoning up his shirt when Elena knocked on his door.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Are you decent?"

He couldn't resist. "I'm never decent, Elena, but I _**am**_ dressed."

The door opened and she came in, all eye rolling and har-dee-har-har. He shot her his cockiest smirk.

"Oh, c'mon, Elena. It's nothing you haven't seen before, remember?" he reminded, alluding to the time when she'd come upon him naked in the parlor.

Even now, six years later, she ducked her head and blushed. "I remember. You were covered in suds and standing there stark naked and dripping wet."

"Ah memories," he said with a dramatic sigh.

She put a hand on her hip and returned his smirk. "Were you planning on doing an instant replay of that for me anytime soon?"

He wanted to tell her that if she gave him the green light, he wouldn't bother even getting dressed, but he held it in. That was not something for this Elena to know.

"Only if you're really, really, really lucky," he answered, breezing past her. "Ready to go?"

She turned and followed him, a sly, little smile on her face. "Yep."

"Great. Let's go then."

She trotted alongside him as they went out to the car.

"We need to go car shopping, too, unless you've changed your mind about a car seat in the Camaro," she said as she buckled herself in.

"Nope," he replied, putting the car into reverse, but her statement did remind him that he needed to make arrangements to have his car shipped to him, and also to deal with the rental he was driving. Technically, he should have returned it to the rental lot at Chicago O'Hare airport this morning. He needed to call the company and extend his contract.

"I liked my Ford Escape," she told him as they headed down the driveway.

"I'll pick up a copy of Consumer Reports, and we'll see which ones have the best safety record," he offered, turning out into the street.

"Okay. I have money. Or at least… I did. Klaus wouldn't let me have access to anything after I tried to run away, but I should have enough for a new car in my accounts, provided they're still there."

"They are," he confirmed, plotting their route in his mind. They'd go to the post office first, then the new age store, and stop for groceries last.

He heard her intake of breath and felt her staring at him, and he gave her a sidelong glance. "What? You think I'd take care of Junior Gilbert, Ric and Donovan, and not take care of you? I set up trusts for you after… after Jenna died, and I have your account information. We can stop at the bank and get a new debit card for you."

He was also planning to open up a trust for the baby within the next couple of months. It was never too early to start planning for a child's future.

"You set up trusts for me?" she asked.

"Yep. They matured when you turned twenty-one."

She grinned. "How rich am I?"

He rolled his eyes and gave her a disapproving look. "You have enough for a new car, but if you want to go hog wild and drop $15K on trinkets on a regular basis, you'll burn through it in no time," he warned.

She made a face and shook her head. "You know I'm not like that, but I do need new clothes, and we'll need things for the baby's room. Will you take me shopping in Richmond?"

"Sure."

"Thanks. And thanks for… you know, taking care of my finances."

"Hey, I can't have you running up huge bills on my Platinum card all the time, now can I?" he teased, looking over at her. They were almost to the post office.

"No. It's good for a woman to have her own money. I should probably get a job or something."

"Now, now, no reason to get carried away. I'm all for women's lib, but your job right now is to take care of yourself and the baby growing inside you. Nothing is more important than that."

She beamed at him and put her hands over her lower abdomen, her eyes growing moist. "You're right. Thank you, Damon."

He shrugged. "And if you want, I can show you a few things about following the market and picking stocks."

"Okay. I think I'd like that."

"Okay."

He pulled into the post office parking lot, and they got out to take care of business like submitting a change of address and removing the mail hold order from the boarding house. When they were done there, they headed downtown, and Damon was pleased to see that the new age-y store was still there. It was called Mystic Pathways or some such nonsense that played on the town's name. He didn't much care what it was called so long as it had what he needed, which it did, including a line of herbal supplements, cleaning and personal products that he thought might be useful in the future. He let Elena browse while he grabbed the essential oils he was looking for and some of the herbs Gloria had listed when she texted her recipe for morning sickness tea. The store even had the coltsfoot, and he picked up some incense and a bottle of massage oil that he liked.

Once finished at the store, they headed over to the bank, and Damon called the rental car company while Elena met with the bank manager to get a new debit card. She ended up just opening a new checking account that could be linked to her trusts, and he told her he would set up automatic deposits for her after they got home.

After the bank, Elena confessed to being hungry so they went to the Grill for lunch. It was surreal to enter the restaurant and bar where he had once spent so much of his time. Nothing much had changed inside the place, but all the staff members were new so no one recognized them. He avoided the bar where he and Ric used to drink together, instead steering Elena towards a booth.

Their meal was quiet and subdued. Being there affected both of them, and they ate in near silence. For once he didn't try to fill the emptiness with chatter and snarky comments. He just let her eat her steak salad while he had a burger and a bourbon. He was hungry for more blood, but he'd be okay until they got back to the house. He needed to plan a blood bank raid, however, and he wondered how he'd manage that when Elena hated being left alone. He thought that he might be able to do it when he took her shopping in Richmond. If he left her in a mall, he could probably swing by the closest hospital and snag some bags from their supply before she missed him. Or at least he hoped so.

"So? Grocery store when we're done here?" she asked him suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Uh, yeah."

"Then home? I'm getting tired."

She was looking a little wan. She might talk a good game, but pregnancy knocked a woman on her ass more often than not, and she was in her second trimester. It was only going to get worse from here.

"Yeah, I think so, unless there's somewhere else you want to go before we head back."

She shook her head. "No. I think I've got enough energy for the food store, but after that, I'll be done."

"We should get to it then," he said, waving the waitress over and asking for the check. He paid the bill and then ushered Elena out to the car.

Thirty minutes later, he was standing in the produce section, trying to decide if he wanted crimini or Shitake mushrooms in the risotto he was making for dinner when a feminine voice called his name.

"Damon?"

He looked up sharply to see the Mystic Falls sheriff herself, Liz Forbes, staring at him as if he'd just risen from the dead.

"Liz!" he greeted cheerfully, genuinely happy to see her.

"It _**is**_ you. For a moment, I thought I was imagining things. When did you get back to Mystic Falls?"

"Last night," he answered, reaching out to give her a hug with the arm that wasn't holding the carry basket. "I was going to stop by your office tomorrow."

She returned the hug, but it was stiff, careful, and her eyes were wary and full of questions when he pulled back.

"Is your brother with you?" she asked.

"No. My bro… he's doing his own thing now," he answered with a small grimace. Losing Stefan to Klaus still hurt, even after all this time.

Liz dropped her eyes. "Oh. Are you back for good?"

"For a little while. You should come to the house for dinner…"

She gave him a wide-eyed stare, and he blinked at her, not understanding her sudden fear. He leaned in close and whispered, "Liz, I don't eat my friends."

She shook her head, flushing with embarrassment. "I know. I'm sorry, Damon. I know. It's an old habit. We haven't had any of your kind for a while. I'm not used to it."

"No vamps have been terrorizing the town then?" he teased.

"We get about one or two a year that we have to deal with. My team is getting rather efficient at it. But none… like you and your brother."

"Like me and my brother?" he repeated.

She dropped her voice. "You know, the non-slaughtering humans kind."

"Ah. Well, yeah, we're an exclusive club. Kind of like MENSA for vampires. Only the ones _**not**_ stupid enough to hunt where they live are allowed in."

She laughed nervously. "I'd forgotten your sense of humor."

He smirked and turned on the charm. "Is that all you've forgotten, Liz?"

She stuttered and looked away. "I…"

"Damon, I think I got everything on the list except the Arborio rice… Oh, Sheriff Forbes. Hi," Elena interrupted, wheeling the cart up to them.

Liz looked even more surprised to see Elena than she had upon seeing him. "Elena! You're back too. Did you come back with Damon?"

Elena tucked her hair behind her ear shyly. "Yeah, umm…"

"Oh my God! Are you _**pregnant**_?" the sheriff blurted suddenly.

"Umm, yeah. How can you tell?" Elena stammered, surprised.

Liz grinned and touched Elena on the shoulder. "Honey, you're glowing."

Elena blushed, but smiled. "I am?"

"You are. You really are. When are you due?"

"December 8th or thereabouts."

"Speaking of which… Do you have any suggestions for a doctor? You know, one that can handle a delicate situation?" he asked.

He saw Liz consider his question before she replied, "Meredith Fell. She's a doctor at the hospital, but she knows about Mystic Falls's paranormal problems. We collect vampire blood for her to use in the E.R. I am sure she'd be willing to help if you promised her regular donations in trade for her services."

He didn't like being used as a blood donor, but if it got Elena a doctor, he'd tolerate it. "Can she be…"

Liz cut him off, nodding. "She can be trusted. I'm sure of it, Damon. I'll give you her number, but let me talk to her first."

"Okay. I'm trusting you, Liz," he reminded with a hint of warning and a possessive hand on Elena's shoulder. The sheriff got the message.

"I know, and I understand your position. I wouldn't betray you, Damon."

"Good. I'm glad we got that settled," he said with a tight smile, then he addressed Elena. "Elena, you said you couldn't find the rice?"

"I…"

"Have you seen Caroline?" Liz asked suddenly.

He turned back to her, his brow creased. Liz looked stricken yet hopeful, but it was the expression of someone who was expecting to receive horrible news. At first he was confused, but then it hit him. Liz had no idea Caroline was alive. As far as she knew, her daughter had left town with Mutt and Witchy, and he doubted Klaus or Rebekah would have let Blondie call home.

In that moment, he felt such sympathy for Liz; suffering, believing her daughter dead or trapped somewhere with no way of knowing what had happened to her only child. He reached out and placed both hands on Liz's shoulders, looking directly into her eyes.

"Yes, Liz. I have."

The woman let out the breath she'd been holding and started to sag, but Damon was ready and he caught her, steadying her on her feet.

"She's alive…" Liz breathed, closing her eyes with relief.

He didn't bother to correct her because now wasn't the time for a snarky comment, not when Liz was so close to tears.

"She's fine, Liz. She's just fine," he assured her, drawing her into an embrace. Liz hugged him back, fisting her hands into his shirt, and Elena wrapped her arms around them both.

"She's okay, Sheriff. She's with Tyler," Elena said.

That got Liz's attention, and she pulled away to look at them, her eyes brimmed with tears. Elena, sweet Elena, was crying openly.

"Tyler's alive, too?"

Elena nodded, sniffling. "Yeah. So you can tell Mrs. Lockwood that her son is okay."

"When did you see them?"

"Three days ago, in Chicago," he replied.

"Chicago…"

He cut her off before she could get the thought process he could see forming behind her eyes going. "But I doubt they're still there, Liz. They aren't exactly… free to phone home."

"This has to do with… why your brother left and what happened to Jenna Sommers," Liz said astutely.

He tightened his lips into a thin line and nodded. "Yeah."

"Is the Bennett girl with them?"

Fresh tears rolled down Elena's cheeks as she shook her head. "No. Bonnie… Bonnie didn't make it."

Liz processed the news with stoicism, but he could tell she was clenching her jaw, fighting to keep it together. "Thank you for telling me."

"I'm sorry we can't tell you more, but…"

"But the less I know, the better. I'm just glad to know she and Tyler are alive. They're okay?"

"Yeah. They're okay, and maybe… maybe someday they'll be able to come home," Elena answered.

He wanted to tell Liz about the supercharged vervain he'd given Caroline, but he didn't want to do it in front of Stepford Elena.

"I hope so," Liz said, brightening.

"Well, we should be going," he announced, noticing Elena beginning to fade.

"Yes. Yes, of course. You're looking a little worn out, Elena. Damon, you should take her home and let her rest. You're staying at the Gilbert house?" Liz agreed.

"The Salvatore Boarding House actually," he corrected.

"Oh. Okay. I'll talk to Dr. Fell and get back to you. Is your number still the same?"

She knew it wasn't, but it was a nice way of asking him for his new one.

"No. Is yours?"

"Uh, yeah."

He quickly dialed her number from memory, making her phone ring. "There, now you have my new number. Don't give it out to all your single lady friends, now. Understood?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows and making Elena groan at his shameless flirting.

Liz chuckled as she saved his number in her contacts. "It's good to have you back, Damon."

"It's good to be back, Liz. We'll be seeing you. Be safe."

"You, too, Damon. Be safe."

He put his arm around Elena's shoulder, letting her lean on him a little because she really was just about out of steam, and waved good-bye to Liz as he guided Elena towards the grains aisle.

"The Arborio should be with the basmati and jasmine rice," he told her, letting her use the cart for balance as he pushed it.

"I'm glad we ran into Sheriff Forbes," she said after a moment.

"Me too," he agreed, plucking the box of Arborio rice from the top shelf. "Got it. We can check out now."

She nodded, and they headed for the front.

"You think Rebekah will ever let Caroline come home?" she asked in a small voice.

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe Barbie Klaus will get tired of her little toy and let her go."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No."

She sighed. "Me either."

He tightened his hand on her shoulder, much more for reassurance than support, and ushered her towards a checkout lane.


	9. Chapter 9

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, Kate C, and Layla Reyne

Chapter Nine

* * *

Elena helped him put away the groceries after they got back to the house, then he encouraged her to go take a nap. It looked as if she was going to argue with him on the subject, at first suggesting she simply rest on one of the couches in the parlor, but she eventually gave in and headed upstairs. He was relieved to see her go because her flirting and less than subtle interest in him was wearing him damn thin, and he'd needed a sanity break.

It wasn't even that she was blatantly making passes at him. That he could probably handle. It was the secret smiles and friendly touches that were really doing him in. They reminded him of a time when things between them had been comfortable and easy, before judgy "friends" had tried to convince the two of them that their growing closeness was wrong. Back then everyone, even Ric, seemed to have ganged up against him – trying to change him, trying to make him into something he wasn't, trying to convince Elena that he was a bad influence. Well, he admitted that he was, but the girl had needed shaking up, and she'd _**loved**_ it. He was the only one who had ever seen her for her, and he'd allowed her to be herself without guilt or judgment. He'd never seen Elena laugh and smile with Stefan the way she had when she was with him. That alone should have spoken volumes to anyone paying attention.

After Elena went upstairs, he set about filling fragrance oil burners with different essential oils meant to help clear the mind and strengthen mental powers, and he placed them all around the first floor. He lit the burners with tea candles and soon the house began to smell of rosemary and frankincense oil with a hint of sandalwood and Clary sage. He didn't burn the coltsfoot yet because that one was best used when the subject was present and conscious.

Once back in the kitchen, he took the muskroot, packaged as jatamansi in capsules, and emptied the contents of half of the capsules into a mortar. He then chopped up some dried lemongrass and added some Japanese hojicha green tea. Hojicha was toasted sensha and was lower in caffeine. It also went well with the mint he intended to add. He wished he could use gotu kola, but that wasn't safe for a pregnant woman to use. He used a pestle ground all of the herbs together in the mortar, and then stored the mix in an airtight container.

After he was done, Damon went about the house dusting and tidying places that the cleaning crew had missed, and he serviced and restarted the grandfather clock. He also called and arranged to have his Camaro shipped to him on a cross-country transport that would get the car to him within the week. Then he sat down with Consumer Reports' special new car issue and read through the ratings, tagging the ones he thought were best for Elena to look at later. He'd been able to extend his rental car for another two days, but unless he could get Elena to buy a car off a dealer's lot, he'd have to drive Stefan's Porsche, and he'd hate to do that.

About two hours had passed, and he was thinking that Elena would be getting up soon, when he remembered that they hadn't bought her a new set of slippers, and he winced at his uncharacteristic forgetfulness. Cold tile notwithstanding, even the best-kept hardwood floors could throw off the occasional splinter, and he didn't want Elena to get hurt. He was pretty sure she had a set of slippers in her room at the Gilbert house, so he zipped upstairs to check on her to see if he might have enough time to go over there and pick them up. As he walked down the hallway that led to the bedrooms, he wasn't surprised to hear her heartbeat thudding behind his bedroom door instead of behind the door of the room she'd chosen for herself.

He opened the door as quietly as possible and peered inside, finding her curled on his bed, sound asleep. Part of him wished he could see her sleeping there every day, but another part knew he couldn't trust what she said she wanted until he broke the compulsion, and there was no telling what she would do after that. Her reluctance to answer him when he asked if it was okay to give in to Stepford Elena's advances made him worry. He sighed and closed the door, deciding that she wasn't going to wake up anytime soon based on her heartbeat and slow breathing. Still, he didn't want to be gone for too long, so he hurried out to the rental car and headed over to the Gilbert house.

He retrieved the key from its hiding place and entered through the front door. He found the slippers under the left side of her bed. He also picked her teddy bear up off the floor from where she'd dropped it yesterday and snagged the basket of laundry. He wasn't sure if she'd be happy to have the bear or not, or if any of the clothes in the basket would still fit her. He didn't think they would fit, to be honest. Adult Elena was curvy in places eighteen year-old Elena hadn't been, and he doubted that she'd be able to get into her skinny jeans. Six-year-old dirty laundry, however, was just too skanky for him to abide so he was taking it with him, and Elena could decide what she wanted to do with it after it was washed and dried.

He was back at the boarding house in less than forty minutes, and he slipped into his bedroom to see if Elena was still asleep. Seeing that she was, he placed the slippers on the floor next to her side of the bed and put the bear by the headboard on her opposite side. He then left her and went back downstairs to do the laundry and some prep work for dinner. He was just finishing up the homemade stock when Elena wandered sleepily into the kitchen.

"Good evening, sleepyhead," he greeted, skimming the fat off the top of the broth.

"Ugh," she complained, rubbing her face. "You shouldn't have let me sleep for so long."

He shrugged and poured the broth through a strainer to remove the solids. "You obviously needed the rest. You didn't even wake up when I brought you your slippers."

She smiled and looked down at her feet. "Thank you for that, by the way, and for my bear."

"I figured you'd want something that reminded you of home."

"You remind me of home," she stated, giving him a soft look.

Her words made him smile, but it was half a bittersweet grimace as he turned away under the pretense of dumping the solids into a separate bowl to be processed later. "You should work for Hallmark. You'd be great at writing sappy, romantic cards."

She walked around the island and sat in her spot on the counter next to the sink. "Is it so hard for you to believe that you remind me of home just as much as I remind you?"

"No, it's just that I wouldn't have thought you would see it that way. We didn't exactly set up housekeeping."

"Yes, we did in a way. That summer after Stefan went off with Klaus, and it was just you, me, Jeremy and Ric. We were kind of like a family."

He snorted and rolled his eyes. Stepford Elena was delusional if she thought he was going to fall for that one. "Right. The family that ganged up on me and thought the Council's plan to put vervain in the town's water supply was a good idea because it would _help me stay in control._"

She winced and dropped her eyes, her cheeks flushing. "That was wrong of us. We should have trusted you. You'd done so much to prove yourself, and we still automatically thought the worst of you. I'm sorry."

She had no idea how long he'd waited to hear her say something like that to him, and it cut him deep to know that she was compelled when she said it. Rage ripped through him, hot and blinding, and he struggled not to unleash a string of vindictive remarks meant to wound and scar as much as he was wounded and scarred. Elena wasn't the source of his pain, Klaus was, and it wouldn't be right for him to spew all his hate and anguish out at her. Six years ago he would have let her have it, but that was before he'd found himself and accepted his mistakes and failings. His beast had no control over him any longer, and he wouldn't let his frustration make him do something he'd later regret.

"Thank you. Apology accepted," he said.

She made a little sound of surprise and examined her nails. "Do you forgive me, then? For all the awful things I did to you?"

"Well, you know me, I'm not one to hold a grudge," he replied, smirking.

"Bullshit. I mean it, Damon. Do you forgive me?"

He reached over and brushed a tendril of hair away from her face. "I forgave you the moment after you did it. Besides, I left you with Klaus. I think that trumps any shitty thing you ever did to me."

"I told you before, I know you had no choice. If you hadn't left me with him, he would've killed all of you, then made my life a living hell. Did you know he broke my back to paralyze me so I couldn't run away?"

He grimaced. "Gloria might have mentioned something like that to me," he confessed, busying himself with collecting the enameled cast iron pot he needed for the risotto. It was a brilliant cobalt blue, and he'd always been fond of it.

"I would've stayed paralyzed, too, if not for Elijah. He gave me his blood so I'd heal."

"Good for him. Makes up for him betraying us on the night of the sacrifice," he commented, going to the cupboard where he had stored the ground tea mix.

"He wasn't all bad. Aside from that night, I always found him to be honorable. And he's much more trustworthy than Klaus."

"Debatable," he countered, putting water on for tea and spooning the mental clarity mix into the infuser. He washed the risotto pot while he waited for the water to boil.

"He tried to be there for me as much as he could. He'd reason with Klaus on my behalf, gain me privileges and such. He was a good friend. He tried very hard to talk Klaus out of this," she said, gesturing towards her womb.

"Can't say I'm impressed with his powers of persuasion," he admitted.

"He did his best. Sometimes Klaus listened to him, sometimes he didn't."

"Well, it's not like I don't know all about annoying, little brothers who never listen to what Big Bros have to say," he told her, giving her a wry look.

She chuckled. "Me too."

The water was boiling so he poured it into the mug and presented it to her.

"What's this?" she asked, giving it a sniff.

"New blend," he answered.

"One of Gloria's?"

"Something like that."

"Smells like there's mint in it."

"That would be because there is."

She set the mug down beside her on the counter, probably because she knew it needed to steep before she could drink it. He tried to remain nonchalant about it, but he was actually anxious to discover how the blend would affect her; if he would see changes right away or if it would take some time before he got any results.

"The house smells good, by the way. I saw you were burning some fragrance oils," she said, looking around the kitchen as if really seeing it for the first time. She hadn't spent too much time in this room since they'd usually cooked at her place.

"Just trying to clear away the musty, no-one's-lived-here-in-six-years smell," he explained, casually going over to the cupboard where he kept the herbs and drawing out a small bit of dried coltsfoot.

"I figured. You always were a neat freak."

"Hey, someone has to know how to keep house. God knows my brother was useless at it."

He sprinkled the dried herb into a small pot with a splash of water and put it on the stove, turning the burner on low. He knew the heat would make the coltsfoot start to steam and fill the kitchen with its smoke.

"So am I… or at least I was. I'm better at it now. I owe a lot of that to you."

"Really? Because I remember a certain teenager sneering at me and telling me she didn't need home-ec lessons from a homicidal psychopath," he countered, smiling to soften the jibe.

She shook her head. "I didn't mean that. I was just embarrassed that you knew how to properly sort laundry, and I didn't."

"You did all right."

"Only because I watched you. I know you thought I wasn't paying attention, but I really was. I learned a lot just by copying what I'd seen you do."

"Glad to have been of service."

"You were always trying to help me, trying to make me a better person. I know you were the one who put Ric up to teaching me how to keep a checkbook."

"Well, you weren't about to let me do it."

"I should have. You really taught Jer how to keep track of things. I don't think he ever told you, but he was grateful for the lessons."

"He was the man of the house. It was his duty to know how to manage the finances."

She snorted, and he glanced over at her, eyebrow raised.

"What?" he asked.

"Man of the house?" she repeated. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound all… Southern Gentleman."

"Well, I was. I was the perfect gentleman, all polite and proper. I always treated the ladies with the utmost respect," he countered, then let his mouth slide into a lascivious smirk. "Until I got them alone in the barn."

She laughed. "And even then I am sure they had no complaints."

"I'm not one to kiss and tell."

The tea was ready, so he made it a point to remove the infuser and place it in the sink before presenting Elena with the mug again. She accepted it with a small smile and took a tentative sip.

"What do you think?" he asked, trying to sound perfectly disinterested and calm.

"It's… different. A little bitter."

"That's the hojicha," he said, moving to get the honey pot so he could drizzle a bit into the tea.

"The what?"

"Hojicha. It's a green tea from Japan. Very good for you. Full of antioxidants," he explained, getting nervous because there was a sharp glint in her eyes.

'_She knows! She knows what I'm trying to do! Quick, Salvatore, deflect!'_

"And it has half the caffeine of other green tea."

Just like that, she rolled her eyes, and the suspicion disappeared from her gaze. "The caffeine thing again? Really, Damon? I _**told**_ you. I'm allowed to have…"

"One cup of coffee a day. Yes, yes. I heard you," he replied, taking the mug long enough to drop in a bit of honey and give it a quick stir. "Here, try that."

She made a face at him, but complied, and he saw her take a good-sized swallow. By now the coltsfoot was steaming, and the scent of it was filling the kitchen. He busied himself with opening a bottle of pinot grigio to use in the risotto, and tried to make it seem like he wasn't watching Elena like a hawk to see if the tea would have any effect on her. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be happening, and he felt a pang of bitter disappointment.

'_It was unrealistic to expect it to work right away. Gloria warned me it would have to build up in her system,'_ he thought, trying not to be too disheartened.

He turned his back to her so he could concentrate on sweating the onions and garlic for the risotto. The water in the pot with the coltsfoot had all but boiled away so he removed it from the heat and turned off the burner. He'd burn more in an incense bowl later.

He was watching the onions begin to turn translucent when he heard Elena shift and set the mug down on the granite counter. From the hollow clink it made, he could tell it was empty, and he debated making her another cup, but decided against it, not wanting to seem too obvious. He was already half suspicious that Klaus had put fail-safes into the compulsion to ward off any tampering with it. He had to tread carefully.

He was reaching for the rice to rinse it before toasting it in the pot, when he heard Elena's uncertain voice speak his name.

"Damon?"

It was the way she said it that made the Christmas lights flicker on and the bells ring, and somewhere he was certain he could hear angels singing Hallelujah. It took everything he had not to instantly whirl around. Instead, he set the strainer with the rice in it down in the sink and gripped the edge of the counter.

"Don't turn around. I can't… I can't see your face," she told him, her voice steadier, but still strained.

"Is that part of it?" he asked carefully.

"Sometimes."

"Can you hand me the wooden spoon from the utensil crock next to you?" He didn't need it, but he wanted to see if she had control over her body.

It took her a while, and he was practically trembling with tension, but the end of the spoon finally tapped him on the arm. He didn't look as he reached a hand up to take it.

"Thanks," he said.

"What did you do?"

"If I tell you, will _**she**_ find out?"

"I don't know. Maybe. We're not really separate people. I'm her, and she's me. We're just different sides of the same coin."

"Well, then, it's best that I not say. You'll just have to trust me."

"You know I do."

He gave a mirthless chuckle and bowed his head. He wanted so badly to turn around and look at her, but he knew he couldn't.

'_She's Eurydice. If you look at her, she'll disappear,'_ he repeated over and over in his head.

"I wish… I wish I'd trusted you more back then. I wish… I wish I'd known what I know now," she admitted regretfully.

"Don't beat yourself up over it. Hindsight is always 20/20."

"And there you go, forgiving me when I don't deserve it."

"We don't know how long you'll be in control so let's not go down Memory Lane, okay? Especially when I'm not allowed to look at you or touch you."

"You were always so tactile. I figured out way too late that touch grounded you. I should have hugged you more and yelled less."

"Awww, now you're just getting mushy. You know how well I do with the touchy-feely stuff," he teased, picking up the strainer with the rice and rinsing it under some water to keep his hands busy.

He heard her laugh, and he could imagine her smile. It made him smile, too.

"I think it would depend on who was doing the touching."

"Touché," he quipped, shaking the excess water out of the strainer and dumping the rice in the pot to toast.

She fell silent, and he was half afraid that she'd been chased back into the dungeon by her alter ego, but then she spoke again, "I never got the chance to answer you this morning."

He went very still, hanging on her every word. This was it. She was going to give him her reply.

"No, you didn't," he prompted.

"I'm… I'm not against it, but… but I like the idea of us getting to know each other again, like you said."

He let the tension out of his shoulders and nodded. She hadn't said yes, but she hadn't said no, either.

"You think you can keep her from making passes at me?" he questioned, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Probably not, but I think between the two of us we can get her to tone it down."

"That would be appreciated."

"I know. I'm sorry she's coming on so strong."

"It's okay. I know I'm irresistible," he joked, trying to make light of it.

He could almost see her rolling her eyes. "Right. Like I said, I think we can get her to back off a little, at least for a while."

"Thanks."

She didn't speak again so he went back to focusing on the risotto, stirring the rice so it toasted evenly. It was almost time to add the wine.

"I've thought about it, you know? Going to bed with you," she said after a few moments, and the admission shocked him enough to make him gasp. "I'm no saint, either. Don't make me out to be one."

The statement sent his mind to whirring because he knew Elena would never be into casual sex, so who was it that she was being not-saintly with, and where was that person now?

"That's what I was, wasn't I? The good girl. The one who always did the right thing, the moral thing. Who always did what was expected of her. The one who stayed faithful to her boyfriend, and tried to save him even when he didn't want to be saved. I was such an idiot."

"You were young and in love. There's a difference," he said gently, not wanting her to be too hard on herself.

"You knew better. You knew from Katherine how love could go wrong when one partner didn't feel the same way as the other."

"Don't bring Katherine into this. You are _**nothing**_ like Katherine."

"I'm more like her than you think."

"No, never," he vehemently disagreed, desperately wanting to break the rules and grab her so she could look into his eyes and know he was telling her the truth. "Katherine was a selfish, self-centered bitch who cared nothing for anyone but herself. You? You loved everyone more than yourself, more than anyone I've ever known. Not even Joan of Arc had such a martyr complex."

"I loved two brothers and couldn't choose between them."

"You told me it was always going to be Stefan," he reminded, trying not to sound too bitter or incredulous.

"And I meant that, when I said it. I did. But then with everything that happened with Klaus, and the sacrifice, and you almost dying… And then Stefan leaving with Klaus, and us trying to find him. All that time, you stood by me. You did whatever I needed you to do. I'd started to feel differently about you then, but I was too much of a coward to follow my heart."

Too much of a coward to follow her heart? What the hell was **_that_** supposed to mean? She'd never loved him. She'd made that perfectly clear that last day on the Navy Pier when she'd screamed it at him after he'd suggested they ride the Ferris Wheel. He poured in the wine and let it steam up, stirring the rice. He didn't know if he could deal with her delving into her feelings for him right now.

"You were always honest with me, even when what you had to tell me wasn't pretty or nice. And you never expected me to be anything but myself when I was with you. When we were together, just the two of us, I was free. I didn't have to be the good girl. I didn't have to be the moral one who made all the "right" choices. I could just be me, and that scared the hell out of me," she confessed.

He didn't answer, but it took a supreme amount of effort not to crush the wooden spoon in his hand.

"My fear made me want to hurt you, to push you away, because I wasn't supposed to like being with you so much, and you were the perfect target because I knew you'd take it…"

"Whoa, have you been watching re-runs of Dr. Phil or what? Gonna tell me all about my childhood traumas?" he snapped.

"And you'd lash out like that, and I'd scream at you and say horrible things," she said with a defeated sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Now who's turning who into a saint? Remember who it is you're talking to while you're waxing poetic about our past," he scolded with a snarl.

"I'm talking to the man who was willing to let me hate him if it meant saving my life and the lives of those I loved," she insisted stubbornly.

"You're confusing me with the wrong Salvatore. I'm not good. I'm not noble. I'm bad, and I _**like**_ it."

"You keep telling yourself that, but I know the Damon who comforted Liz Forbes today for no other reason than he knew how much she must be hurting not knowing if Caroline was dead or alive," she shot back angrily.

"She's the sheriff. Always good to have a sheriff on your side," he deflected.

"Damon, I _**know**_ you, and it's okay for you to be you when you're with me…"

"No, I _**can't**_, Elena, because you're _**not**_ you, and if I'm _**me**_ with not-you then I'm going to do things you'll never forgive me for."

"That isn't true. Damon, I know…" She stopped suddenly and drew a sharp breath.

"Elena?" he asked, worried. Was he losing her already, and all they'd really done was argue?

"I'm losing control…" she whispered, an edge of fear in her voice.

"I'll brew more tea," he stated, reaching for the mix.

"No. It's okay. Let me go for now."

"Elena…"

"You know how to help me come back, but we can't do it too often. She'll catch on."

He gave up the fight and spun on one heel, pivoting to face her as he grabbed her by the arms and stared directly into her wide eyes. He needed to see her, and he needed her to see him.

"Elena."

"Damon," she breathed, her eyes brimming with tears.

'_I love you!'_ he wanted to declare, but it was too late. Her pupils contracted, and he knew she was gone. Stepford Elena looked back at him and smiled a beatific smile that made him want to sob.

"Is everything okay?" she asked him.

He released her arms and took a step back. "Yeah, everything is fine. I saw you swaying a bit, and I was worried you were zoning out on me. I think it was the fumes from the wine I poured into the pot. You never could handle your liquor."

"Hey, who drank you under the table at Bree's?" she argued, insulted.

"Oh fine. Bring up the fact that I can't unhinge my jaw like a snake to consume alcohol," he quipped, looking at her over his shoulder as he turned back to the risotto. He needed something else to focus on or he'd be brewing a new batch of tea and burning his entire supply of coltsfoot just for another few minutes with her.

She laughed and tossed her hair back. "I remember that trip. I was so mad at Stefan, and so mad at you."

"Mad at me? Why? What did I do?" he asked all innocent and offended.

"You kidnapped me, you jerk," she answered, slapping him on the arm.

"I did no such thing. I rescued you from a car wreck, you fainted, and I just brought you along with me because it wasn't safe to leave you alone on the side of the road while you were unconscious. Besides, you needed the five minute time-out."

She huffed and nodded. "Boy did I ever. That was a good trip."

"Except for that idiot trying to set me on fire," he reminded her.

"Yeah, there was that, but I stopped him from killing you, so it was all good."

"Right," he said dubiously.

The wine had reduced by half, so he added two cups of the chicken stock and set the timer.

"That smells delicious," she said, taking a deep sniff. "I've always loved your cooking."

"And here I thought you only kept me around for my good looks."

"Well, that too, but I have to admit your cooking is a serious perk."

He poured himself a glass of the pinot grigio and saluted her with it. "Duly noted."

"How long until dinner's ready?"

"About thirty minutes."

She hopped down from the counter and went to get plates. "I'll set the table."

"Okay. While you're in the dining room, check out the copy of Consumer Reports I left on the table for you. I dog-eared the cars I thought would be best."

"Great. I'll be sure to check them out. Thank you."

"No problem."

She flashed him a happy grin as she breezed out of the kitchen with the plates, and he breathed a sigh of relief once she was out of sight. He needed a moment to process what his Elena had told him about the nature of her compulsion and her feelings for him. While she hadn't come right out and given him the green light to have sex with her, she had left the door open for sex at a later time, and he could live with that. He was very good at living on hope. It was all he'd done for 145 years before he found out that Katherine had betrayed him. That being said, he also hoped that his Elena could make good on her promise to help tone down her alter ego's advances because Little Damon had trouble grasping the concept of "not now."

He also had to process what she'd said about her feelings. Did she really think she'd made the wrong choice? Was she finally admitting that she felt something for him that was more than friendship? Was she telling him that she still felt the same way? Could Stepford Elena's vampire girlfriend persona be built on Elena's true beliefs?

He couldn't handle thinking about it right now because Stepford Elena was in the dining room setting the table, and he didn't know when his Elena would be back. Instead, he concentrated on the risotto, adding more liquid in steady intervals so that all of the stock he'd set aside for it would be absorbed, and he made a tossed salad with spring mix, baby spinach, tomatoes and cucumbers while the rice simmered. Cooking helped him clear his mind and focus on the challenges ahead. The tea and coltsfoot had worked to allow his Elena some control over her own mind and body again, but she couldn't maintain it for long, and if they did it too often, then her evil twin would get suspicious. It was going to be a delicate dance for both of them, but as long as they both knew what moves to make, they'd be okay.

The last step for the risotto was adding the cooked chicken and the Parmesan cheese, and he worked those in until the rice was thick and creamy. He announced dinner as he carried the pot into the dining room and set it down on a trivet. Elena was sitting at the table, reading through the pages of Consumer Reports that he'd dog-eared for her inspection, and she smiled at him when he came in.

"That smells incredible," she said, staring at the steaming food.

"I hope you're hungry."

"Starving."

"Let me get the salad and the drinks," he said, ducking back into the kitchen to fetch the greens and the wine. He also brought out a pitcher of ice water and a glass of blood.

He sat down across from her and waited for her to serve herself before taking his portion.

"Mmmmm, so good. I don't know which is better, this or the campanelle you made last night," she confessed, taking a bite.

"Apples and oranges," he said, sipping his blood. "Have you narrowed the search down?"

"I think it's between the Audi and the Subaru."

"Both are good."

"Yeah. The Audi gets great gas mileage, but the Subaru has the better safety record, and the all-wheel drive gets a higher rating than the Audi."

"It's a tough choice. Why don't we see what dealerships have the models you want in stock and go for a couple of test drives tomorrow?" he offered.

"I think that's a great idea."

"Good. It's settled then. We'll go to Richmond tomorrow, do some shopping, look for a car for you…"

"You need to go to the hospital, too, right? You're getting low on supplies?"

"I've enough for another couple of days, but yeah, that would be a good idea, too."

"Okay then, we'll make a day of it."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.

She grinned, obviously thrilled by the idea of spending all day shopping with him. "Great."

They finished dinner, and Elena helped him clear the table, wash the dishes and put away the leftovers. There was enough risotto left for a couple of lunches, and he set it aside in individual serving containers that could be easily nuked. When the kitchen was tidy, they retired to his room since there was no television in the parlor, and he put on some innocuous sitcom about two young twenty-somethings sharing an apartment in New York City. Elena seemed to enjoy it, at the very least, even if he found it annoying, and he was much happier when the show ended and "The Big Bang Theory" came on.

Sometime later, Elena was craving something sweet so he went down to the kitchen to make homemade hot chocolate with milk, double cocoa powder and a dash of vanilla. He topped them off with fresh made whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon, and then brought them up to his room where Elena was waiting. She'd changed into her granny PJs while he was gone, and he found her nestled under his blankets with his pillows piled up around her for support. He offered her a mug as he slid into bed beside her, and she accepted it with both hands.

"Mmmm," she sighed appreciatively.

When she lowered the mug, he saw that she had gotten whipped cream on her nose, and he reached out to wipe it away before he could stop himself.

"You have whipped cream on your face," he explained, swiping it off with his thumb and bringing it to his lips. It tasted faintly of her skin.

She smirked at him and deliberately dipped her nose in the whipped cream, daring him to wipe it off again, only this time when he did, she grabbed his hand before he could bring his finger to his mouth and brought it to her own instead. He closed his eyes and tried not to moan out loud as she slipped his finger between her lips and sucked.

"Elena…" It was both a plea and a warning.

"Too much?" she asked, suddenly uncertain.

"Yeah, a little," he admitted, even as his traitorous body screamed _'No! Not enough!'_

"I'll stop, I promise. Just don't send me away," she vowed, her eyes wide and pleading.

"I won't."

"Thank you," she said with obvious relief and tucked herself against his side, using his shoulder as a headrest.

"The Big Bang Theory" ended and one of the network's latest crime dramas came on. He sipped his hot cocoa, while keeping one eye on the TV and the other on an increasingly drowsy Elena. He slipped the mug from her hand as soon as she was finished, and placed the empty cup next to his on the bedside table. Then he wrapped one arm around her as she curled next to him, resting her hand on his chest. She was asleep before the show in the ten o'clock timeslot was over.

Carefully extricating himself from her hold, he slipped out of bed long enough to take the dirty mugs down to the kitchen, give them a quick wash, and grab a blood bag before going back upstairs. Elena was still asleep when he returned, looking for all the world like a lostling who had taken refuge in his bed, and he sighed as he rummaged in his dresser drawers for a set of seldom used pajamas. Since he usually slept in the nude or in just his underwear, he had little occasion to wear anything more than a pair of boxer briefs to bed, but he did remember getting a set of high quality silk sleepwear from a would-be lover. The relationship, such as it was, had ended with him making her forget he'd ever existed, but he'd kept the pajamas because he'd liked how they'd felt against his skin. A heightened sense of touch made most vampires sensory hedonists, and he was no exception. If Elena ever found out about his fetish for feathers, silk and velvet, he was a dead undead man.

He found the pajamas neatly folded at the bottom of his underwear drawer and pulled them out. They were black, of course, but soft as a girl's skin, and he stripped off his shirt and jeans so he could slip them on. He toyed with the idea of just putting on the drawstring pants and leaving himself shirtless, but decided that would probably be too much for Stepford Elena to resist. He was a sexy beast after all, and his abs were the envy of many a man. He also felt obligated to respond in kind since Elena had gone through the trouble of putting on the granny PJs, when he knew she preferred to sleep in a skimpy tank and shorts. The least he could do was cover up his gorgeous body so she wouldn't be tempted.

Who was he kidding? Her head against his naked chest? Her warm breath blowing over his nipple? He had control, but even he had limits.

It felt odd to be so covered as he got back into bed, but he figured he'd get used to it, although he secretly hoped he would be able to "lose" the pajamas soon and go back to sleeping _au_ _naturale. _He turned off the TV and the light and settled on his left side, facing Elena. It amused him that they'd already claimed "sides," him keeping to the right side of the bed, closest to the door, and Elena on the left. He noticed that they were the same sides they preferred when sleeping alone, and he mused on the irony of not having the whose-side-of-the-bed-is-whose argument. He pulled the blankets up over his body and burrowed down into the softness of his pillows with a happy sigh. He loved this bed. He was just on the edge of sleep when he heard Elena's muffled voice murmur his name.

"Damon?"

"I'm here," he answered.

A tentative hand searched for him and found his silk-clad arm, and then she shifted her whole body to align with his, her arm snaking under his elbow to rest across his waist. Her head tucked under his chin as she laid it on the same pillow he was using, and he felt her soft breath on his neck. He closed his eyes and dared to stroke her hair, letting it slide through his fingertips until he felt her relax into a deeper sleep. When he was certain she was fully unconscious, he snuggled close and allowed himself to follow her into dreamland.


	10. Chapter 10

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, Kate C, and Layla Reyne

* * *

Chapter Ten

When it finally happened, it took him by complete surprise. In hindsight, he realized it shouldn't have been such a shock; it had been building for the better part of two weeks, and the fact that he'd held out for so long was a testament to his ironclad control. But really, sex had been the last thing on his mind when she'd tackled him in the kitchen yesterday. She'd caught him in a moment of weakness, however, and that was the end of it. Frankly, he couldn't be certain that she hadn't planned it all along. Both she and her alter ego were sneaky that way.

It had been a day just like any other day. After spending the last thirteen days sleeping with her, eating with her, and spending pretty much every waking hour together, he'd gotten used to being in a constant state of semi-arousal. He'd perfected the art of jerking off in the shower in under four minutes, because that was about all the time he had to himself in any given twenty-four hour period if she wasn't asleep. She also had the uncanny ability to interrupt him the moment he'd reach to touch himself, as if she had some sort of sixth sense for it.

He hadn't minded it too much, since the rewards of his restraint far outweighed the drawbacks. He had Elena all to himself, in both her incarnations, and they were proving to be a damn good team. They worked together, cooked together, shopped together, made big decisions together, and he was even accompanying her to the visits with Dr. Fell and watching birthing videos with her. Frankly, no amount of bloody torture could have prepared him for the reality of human birth. He had no idea how women did it, let alone the ones who did it multiple times. He thanked God that the doctor wasn't stupid enough to suggest birthing classes because, while he might be just fine with _**his**_ pregnant female, putting him in a room full of them and their own overprotective mates was a very, _**very**_ bad idea.

But the point was that they'd been steadily building a life together. They'd gone to Richmond where they'd bought her an Audi crossover SUV hybrid in "moonlight" blue. He secretly loved the vehicle, but felt obligated to give Elena a hard time about it just on principle. If she'd noticed that they usually took her car when they went out instead of his Camaro, she'd never mentioned it. The car seat had yet to be acquired as she was doing extensive research on the best one, but that was just a matter of time.

She'd chosen to convert "her" bedroom – the one right next to his – into the nursery. It was a large enough room to accommodate a bedroom suite for her plus all the furniture required for the safe housing and rearing of an infant. When he'd taken her down into the Boarding House's basement storage rooms and offered her his and Stefan's baby furniture, she'd almost started to cry. There was the rocking chair that had come all the way from Philadelphia, and the rosewood crib that the slaves had made when his mother was pregnant with him.

Yes, they'd owned slaves. Just about every rich landowner in the South had owned slaves in the 1800's. Saying that his family was good to their slaves was a piss poor apology for "owning" another human being, but the truth was that the Salvatore slaves were better housed and treated than other slaves in Mystic Falls, and Senora Salvatore was well loved. The way he remembered his nurse telling it, there had been much rejoicing among the slaves when his mother had announced her pregnancy, and their happiness was evidenced in the sturdy, masterful woodwork on the crib.

The prize find was the rocking cradle which had been hand carved by his maternal grandfather himself and sent all the way from Italy. It was a magnificent piece of craftsmanship with the Salvatore crest painted on one end and his mother's family crest on the other. Pineapples and other symbols of abundance and prosperity were carved into the sides, and the whole thing was topped with an attachment for a netting canopy to keep direct sunlight and insects off the baby. Elena had taken one look at it and fallen in love.

He'd just finished carefully cleaning and restoring each piece of furniture for the nursery within the last two days. He'd conditioned and preserved the wood, and purchased new bedding for the crib and cradle. Elena had chosen a diaper-changing table with storage drawers that complimented the antiques, and the whole room was coming together nicely. The next thing on his list to-do was to convert the room's bay window into a reading/nursing nook where Elena could read or hold the baby while looking out over the cultivated gardens in the backyard.

Yesterday – the day everything changed – they'd come home from a visit with Dr. Fell where they'd received an ultrasound of the littlest Gilbert-to-Be. It had been Elena's first ultrasound (and his, too) and they'd been amazed at how well-formed the baby was even if she was only five inches long and weighed less than six ounces. They could easily see her head, feet, the curve of her spine, and even the beating of her tiny heart as it _whoosh-whoosh-whooshed_ across the screen and out of the machine's speakers. He'd heard her heartbeat pretty much from day one, of course, but it was the first time Elena had also heard it. She'd reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly as tears welled in her eyes.

"There she is," Dr. Fell had said, and he'd wanted to scowl and make a snarky comment about her being Captain of the Fucking Obvious.

According to the good doctor, or not so good doctor if she was willing to make deals with vampires in trade for blood donations, Elena's baby was about eighteen weeks along and on track for her scheduled December 8th debut. Dr. Fell, or Meredith as she wanted them to call her, had announced that she didn't see any abnormalities or issues of concern with the baby or Elena's womb, and she'd sent them both off with a prescription for acid reflux pills in case Elena started getting heartburn and a remarkably detailed print out of the ultrasound where they could clearly see the baby's face. They were due to come back in two weeks for another check-up.

Damon had thanked the doctor and offered his arm to fulfill his end of their deal. His relationship with Dr. Fell was cordial, but strained. She knew far too much about vampires for his comfort, and he did not like having to give her his blood every time he and Elena came in for a visit. It was just two vials, which was hardly much at all, but she was using it to heal patients, and that meant random people were walking around with his blood in their systems. If they died, they'd come back, and newbie vamp plus pregnant lady plus over-protective vampire guardian equaled a potential blood bath. Dr. Fell assured him that anyone she dosed with vampire blood was kept at the hospital the requisite twenty-four hours to allow it to dissipate from the person's system, but he still wasn't completely comfortable with it.

She also had the nasty habit of asking him all sorts of questions while Elena was getting changed; questions about his vampirism, questions about Elena and her "situation," questions about Klaus and the Originals, any of which had the potential to get them all very dead if the wrong ears happened to overhear. He deflected her inquiries as best he could, and he wished he could compel her to make her forget, but she was on vervain. He was worried that he would one day have to kill her, and he really didn't want to do that. She was Liz's friend, and if he killed her, he'd have to find a new doctor for Elena, and that'd be an inconvenience he didn't want to deal with, but he was growing increasingly concerned with her questions.

When he and Elena had returned from home the visit with Dr. Fell, he'd needed some time with _his_ Elena, so he lit the coltsfoot and brewed the tea. She drank at least two cups of the mental clarity blend every day, and it was really having an effect. Combined with the coltsfoot, and other mind clearing scents, they were getting it down to a science, and Elena was stretching her boundaries, able to extend her time "out" more and more each day. It looked like, as long as nothing she did was in direct conflict with the compulsion, she was able to navigate. Still, they had developed a special code to make sure each knew who was talking. If it was her, she would call him David, in honor of his friend, David Skinner who had been killed in the Civil War, and he would call her Teresa, because sometimes him saying her name would trigger Stepford Elena to resurface. Teresa was Barbie's perky, brunette friend in the doll series. Elena had asked him how he knew that, and he'd told her that he was a veritable plethora of useless trivia. He didn't want to admit that he'd been secretly stockpiling Barbie shit ever since he'd found out she was having a girl- including a special edition, custom-made Vampire Hunter Barbie that came complete with crossbow and stake-laden garter. God, there were days when he loved being rich.

His Elena was still having issues looking at him, so he did his best to keep his back to her as much as possible, which might have been a contributing factor in him being so blind-sided. He'd made a lemon poundcake, one of his favorites because the scent of lemon always reminded him of summer in Italy, and he'd been discussing the pros and cons of using a limoncello glaze versus buttercream icing when she'd suddenly grabbed him. One moment, he'd been explaining how the limoncello really brought out the citrus flavors in the cake, and the next she'd been shoving her tongue down his throat.

He'd gasped and tried to shove her away because he was certain that something had triggered the return of her alter-ego, but then she'd looked him in the eye and said, "It's okay, David."

_**David.**_ She'd called him David.

That was all he'd needed to give himself the green light. Somehow, he'd managed to avoid knocking the lemon pound cake off the granite counter, but at least two spoons, a spatula and a bowl clattered to the floor as she tackled him. Her arms gripped his shoulders as she'd attempted to climb him like a tree, her legs wrapping around his waist and her weight bending him back against the edge of the counter. He'd reached around and slid his hands underneath her, supporting her as he'd tried to clear enough of his mind to think about what the fuck was happening. It was hard when his body was doing a victory dance, and the heavens were trumpeting the _1812 Overture_ complete with cannons.

The one thing he'd been absolutely certain of, however, was his commitment that their first time – their very first time – would be in his bed. For all that he'd have her in every room in the house, in both cars, in the garden, hell he'd even take her on the roof if that's what she wanted, he'd insisted that their initial lovemaking happen on his sheets and pillows, and he'd refused to concede the argument, no matter how insistent Elena seemed to be.

He'd managed to get them up the stairs, despite Elena's efforts to strip him en route. She'd already ripped the back of his shirt to shreds, and he'd nearly lost his balance on the landing of the staircase when she'd reached for his belt, but miracle of miracles, he'd gotten them both into his bedroom in vamp speed time. He'd tossed her on the bed, grinning as she'd bounced a bit, then got her hands under her to push herself further up the mattress, her eyes sparkling and her lips pulled up into a sexy grin. He'd grinned back and pulled off what was left of his shirt, dropping it to the floor.

Then he'd just stopped. He was standing there frozen at the foot of his bed, with her there in it, and he'd frozen. It was too much, too surreal, and he hadn't been sure who he was about to get into bed with. He was there, on the edge of agony, praying it was real, but ready to put the kibosh on the whole thing if he had any _**hint**_ that his Elena wasn't as into it as he was. He was panting, wide-eyed and breathless, waiting for a sign, when she'd reached out a hand to him.

"Damon…" she'd breathed.

Damon, not David, and he'd wanted to sob and fall to his knees because it wasn't _**her**_.

"Damon," she'd called again, and this time he'd heard _his_ Elena in the voice.

He'd stared into her eyes, straining to see her, and she'd nodded slightly. She was there, looking back at him, even if Stepford Elena was there, too, and he'd realized that it was unrealistic to expect her to be able to maintain complete control under such emotional circumstances. It was enough that she'd started it, that she'd wanted it, and that she was there with him. She and her alter ego had to be in complete accord for her to be so close to the surface, and he had to be okay with that.

"Elena," he'd whispered, allowing himself to move forward to put one knee on the bed.

Her hand had grabbed his arm as her lips claimed his, and he'd been drawn down into the softness and sweetness that was her body.

He'd been certain that she'd been expecting him to rip off her clothes and have her eight ways before teatime, and part of him thought that was what she'd wanted, but it was their first time, and he was going to savor it. So he'd slowed down, intent on making each touch count, and committing himself to memorizing each sigh, each shudder, and each intake of breath as he'd learned her body.

He'd undressed her slowly, reverently, as if he was unwrapping the most precious gift he'd ever received. His first sight of her breasts nearly brought him to tears, and he'd bent his head to each nipple to say hello with the tip of his tongue. He'd slid off her jeans, socks and panties (plain cotton ones she'd worn for her doctor's visit) and had her naked on the bed where he could drink his fill of her with his eyes. He'd left his jeans on since he didn't know if he could hold back once he'd started touching her, and he hadn't wanted to come all over the sheets if he lost it.

He'd given her his best smoldering look as he'd kissed his way down her body, from the base of her throat, through the valley between her breasts, and across the taut skin of her belly just beginning to show the new life growing within her. He'd kept going, placing tiny kisses below her navel, headed lower until he was between her thighs. He'd flicked his gaze up to see what she was doing, and he'd caught her staring at him with a wide-eyed, longing look. That was when he'd realized that no one had ever done this for her. Certainly not the quarterback, who'd more than likely been a virgin for her first time, and there was no way his brother would have been able to handle being that close to her femoral artery. He had no idea if any of the men she'd been with when she wasn't being "saintly" had tried it with her, but he didn't think so; not judging by the expression on her face. He could tell she'd wanted it. She'd wanted it desperately, and who was he to deny her?

The first pass of his tongue had been tentative. He understood that the sensations could be so overwhelming at first that they could border pain, so he'd gently eased her into it. She'd tasted incredible, but he'd held himself in check, even as he reveled in the knowledge that he was the first man to savor her. Little Damon was screaming, but he'd refused to be rushed. This time was for her, and there'd be opportunities afterwards to address his needs. He'd run his tongue along her flushed skin, deliberately avoiding the sensitive tip of her clitoris, waiting until he'd thought she was ready for that first touch. He'd used his fingers as his attentions had made her wet, sliding two into her and probing for that spot he knew he would find that would make her arch her back and gasp in pleasure. Every woman had one; on some it was harder to find than others, but he'd known immediately when he'd found hers, because she'd shuddered like someone had just plugged her into a power socket.

He'd rubbed the spot with his fingers and gone back to work on her with his tongue, this time touching her clitoris directly and holding on as she'd bucked upwards and climaxed. She'd cried out and gasped his name, fisting a hand into his hair and spreading her legs to pull him closer. He'd growled against her wet flesh and resumed licking, bringing her to a second orgasm as she'd panted and writhed beneath his unrelenting mouth. He could already tell that his tongue and her clit were going to be BFFs, and he was planning play-dates that would last all afternoon.

On the edge of her third climax, he'd felt her yanking on his hair, and nearly ripping it out by the roots. He'd raised his head to see what she wanted, and she'd grabbed him by the back of his neck, urging him to come up her body. He'd allowed it, letting her draw him forward until she could kiss him and taste herself on his lips as her hands had reached down to undo his belt.

Mama Salvatore's eldest was no fool, nor had he'd needed to be told twice. He'd stripped off his jeans and boxers, and let her see him in all his vulnerable glory. Then it had been her turn to be timid and uncertain as she'd touched him carefully. He'd smiled at her and laid down beside her, letting her explore his body and take her time. Her fingers had brushed over him with the shyness of the virgin he'd known she wasn't, but her tentative caresses were heaven. There was no part of him that he denied her, and he'd let her touch him everywhere, shifting to accommodate her explorations when necessary.

In truth, he'd been terrified. He'd wanted her so much, loved her so much, and had dreamed about having her for so long that when it finally happened, he'd been nearly paralyzed. It had been the point of no return, and he'd needed Elena to drag him across it.

"Elena, are you sure?" he'd asked multiple times, and each time she'd answered yes with her mouth and her body until he couldn't resist any longer.

When she'd wrapped her hand around his length and tugged gently, encouraging him to climb atop her, he'd let her lead him. He'd rolled and lifted up until he'd been hovering over her, his hips coming to rest between her thighs. She'd parted her legs and lifted her pelvis in just the right way to make it easier for him to enter. He'd held eye contact the entire time as she'd positioned him, and then she'd grabbed his ass to pull him forward and bring him home.

The moment of their union had been electric. Seriously, he'd felt as if his entire body had just been lit up like the lights in Vegas, and his crotch was the Bellagio. There'd been short circuits going off in his head, and somewhere in there he'd heard Elena calling his name, and urging him to move. In a rush of emotion, he'd come back on-line and did as she requested. He'd thrust deep, claiming her, and she'd wrapped her arms around him and dug her nails into his back. The sexy, amazing, little minx had known exactly how much pressure to apply to make the scratches pleasure-pain, and he'd smelled his own blood. It had driven him crazy, and he'd thrown off the last of his restraints and just went for it.

They'd strained together, her feet balanced on the backs of his thighs until he'd hooked his elbows under her knees, drawing her legs up, and he'd raised his torso so he could look at her. She'd stared at him, her face open and wanton as he'd ridden her, and he'd stared back, watching her face for clues as to what pleased her. She'd been glorious in her pleasure, showing him exactly what she liked and how she liked it, until they were both shuddering and moaning. Her orgasm triggered his own, and he'd come with the force of six years of want and longing. He'd almost blacked out.

Afterwards, he'd whispered her name over and over, kissing her, stroking her, and declaring his love. She'd held him and soothed him, and wiped the sweaty hair from his brow. Once he'd felt he could stand, he'd gotten out of bed and sped down to the kitchen. He'd tossed the fallen utensils and bowl into the sink, and grabbed a fork and the lemon pound cake. He'd brought it back up to her where she was still waiting in his bed, rumpled, flushed, and looking like a fallen angel. He'd fed her bits of the cake, not caring about the crumbs because the sheets were getting sealed into a protective bag where he could open it and smell the scent of their first sex whenever he wanted to relive the dream.

They'd fed each other (lemon pound cake would forever be branded in his brain as being synonymous with that day, and he'd never look at it the same way again) and made love two more times before Elena had to sleep. He'd watched over her, guarding her rest and cataloging all the ways he was completely screwed. He'd never let her go now. No, if someone wanted to take her from him, it'd be over his dead body. And she'd staked her claim just as surely as he'd staked his, drawing him in and keeping him there long after they'd reached completion.

When she woke up later in the evening, he'd prepared a "lover's" meal of finger foods meant to be eaten by hand or fed to a partner, and they'd enjoyed their dinner in bed. They'd made love again after and fell asleep snuggled together. In the morning, he'd drawn a bath and bathed with her, giving her the Damon Salvatore bubble bath experience complete with full body salt scrub and scalp massage, and then they'd showered together where he'd introduced her to morning shower sex.

After breakfast, there were errands to run and shopping to do since they were running low on coltsfoot and some of the other herbs for her teas, but the afternoon found them in bed again, reveling in the afterglow of another round of lovemaking, and he was very glad for his vampire stamina otherwise he would not have been able to keep up with her. He wondered how long this "sex kitten" stage of her pregnancy would last. Not long probably, because she'd be getting heavier, and the baby would be putting more pressure on her spine. All too soon she'd go from "take me now, you hunk of a vampire you!" to "don't touch me!" so he intended to enjoy the ride for as long as he could.

Now they were in that languid, post-coital state of contented relaxation with the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the French doors of his room, when he got up to light a bit of coltsfoot and sage in the incense bowl, and simmer some rosemary oil in the oil burner. He'd discovered that his Elena would come out in the lazy, half-drowsy moments after Stepford Elena had been sufficiently fucked into oblivion. She was watching him as he returned to the bed, her gaze appreciative, and it made him stand a little taller and strut a bit.

"Like what you see?" he asked, smirking, his eyes turning predatory.

"Mmmm hmm," she purred, stretching. "I think I see my Skinner."

He cracked a grin and hurried to get back into bed so he could kiss her. "And I think I see Barbie's bestie," he said, laying down beside her and stroking her arm. "Where is _she_?"

Both of them knew which _she_ he was talking about, and Elena's gaze looked far away for a moment before she came back.

"She's sated and happy. She'll be dormant for a while."

He smiled and relaxed next to her, his head cradled by his pillows, and his hand lightly caressed her abdomen, slowing down as he stroked his fingers over her womb.

"Dr. Fell says I'll start feeling her soon," she said, placing her hand next to his on her belly.

"Mmm hmmm."

"It was really cool to hear her heartbeat yesterday."

"Yeah, it was," he agreed.

"You can hear it all the time, can't you?"

He nodded and tapped his ear. "Vampire hearing. I've heard her since the day you were given back to me."

"What does she sound like now?"

"Like she did at the doc's office. Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh like a galloping horse," he answered, a wistful smile on his lips.

"I'll bet you were an excellent rider," she commented.

"I was a Southern Gentleman. Mother bought me my first pony when I was three."

"I would have loved to meet your mother. She must have been an amazing woman."

"She was. She would've liked you," he agreed fondly.

"Do you think so? Wouldn't she have hated me for how awful I was to you."

"Yes, but she would've forgiven you just like I did."

"Do you look like her?" she asked with the innocence of someone who had no idea the wounds she was uncovering.

"Yeah. Stefan took after my father, but I was my mother's son," he admitted.

"That must've been hard on you; looking like her after she'd died and your father hating you for no reason."

"Oh, I gave him plenty of reasons to hate me."

"After he'd driven you to them. I wonder what you would've been like if she'd lived."

"Dead before 1900 because there's no way my mother would've let Katherine anywhere near our house. She would've seen her for the manipulative bitch she was and given her the boot," he said, trying not to growl at the memory of his first doomed love.

"You loved your mother very much."

"Yeah," he replied, and he wanted to add that she'd been the only one who'd ever loved him unconditionally, but he didn't dare to say it out loud. "What's all this talk about my mom? I mean, it's not a typical subject of conversation after someone's just rocked your world."

She chuckled and twined her fingers with his. "I was just wondering what kind of mom I'm going to be. It really sunk in yesterday when I heard her heartbeat and saw her picture on the ultrasound."

"A great one," he assured her.

"Am I?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide and searching his for comfort.

"Yes," he replied with conviction. "Anyone with a big enough heart to forgive a screw-up like me, is going to be an incredible mom."

She shook her head. "No, you're the one with the big heart. We betrayed you and hurt you so many times, and you still wouldn't abandon us. You've even forgiven me for the horrible way I treated you."

She was starting to tear up, and that was never good.

"Hey, hey. None of that. It's all in the past now. No use in dwelling on it. We learn from our mistakes and move on."

She sniffled and nodded, cupping his face with one hand. "Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I'm right. I'm me."

She laughed, but then turned serious again. "I'm gonna have a baby, Damon."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm gonna have a baby, and we'll live with you, and you'll take care of us."

"Yes, I will," he vowed, and added silently, _'Forever, for always, or I'll die trying.'_

"So that means _**we're**_ going to have a baby and be a family."

He had to admit that he hadn't really seen it that way, because he'd never be a father, but he supposed staying with her and helping her raise her daughter counted as filling a fatherly role. The idea filled him with all sorts of emotions and dreams that he hadn't thought would ever be possible.

"I guess we are," he agreed, smiling at her and moving closer.

"I love you, Damon. I love you so much," she said in an impassioned rush.

The words speared him right through the heart, and he gasped. They were everything he had ever wanted and never dared to wish or hope for.

"Elena…"

"I do. I know you don't believe me, but I do. I love you. I love you."

Tears were leaking from her eyes, and he felt his own beginning to fall. She saw them and drew a sharp, surprised breath before reaching up to wipe them away with her thumb. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think. All he could do was press her closer to his trembling body and bury his face in her hair. She might have said something to him, soothing words or coos of comfort, and she might have stroked his head. He couldn't be sure because the dam had broken, and the rush of emotion was white noise roaring in his ears. He clutched her to him, trying not to sob as she wrapped her arms around him and held him together as he fell apart.


	11. Chapter 11

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Yes, I know, I **JUST** updated with Chapter 10 and here's 11 already. Because of what just happened on the show, I **HAD** to write this and get this out for all of you still in shock. Don;t get used to it as Ch 12 will probably be a bit of time in coming, although I know you'll want to kill me for the cliffhanger. As always, many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, Kate C, and Layla Reyne.

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Chapter Eleven

Four days. He had four days of bliss. Four days of peace and happiness with Elena before the universe decided that he'd had enough, and it was time to kick him in the balls again.

She initiated nearly all of their lovemaking, giving him the eye at the most unexpected of moments, and he'd scramble to switch gears to get with the program. They'd made love in almost every room of the house and in the back of her car. He'd even taken her on top of the piano after she'd admitted that it had always been a fantasy of hers, and hell, he was the king of fantasy fulfillment.

He was lost in her warmth and scent, and he was deliriously happy. He should've known it would never last. Fate hated him, and it reminded him of that on a regular basis.

They were snuggled together in his bed after yet another night of loving, when his vampire senses alerted him to danger. He awoke from a dead sleep in full vamp mode, snarling and ready to defend his mate. His vision was red and unfocused as his eyes fell on a male intruder with a crossbow. He roared and lunged as the man fired, striking him in the shoulder with a vervain-tipped arrow. The blow failed to stop him, and he was on the man, fangs bared, rage burning through him like wildfire. He grabbed the asshole by the chin and prepared to twist his head off when Elena screamed.

"_**Damon! No! It's Ric!"**_

He curbed his strength at the last second, merely snapping his former friend's neck instead of messily decapitating him. It was a good thing, too, because he would never have been able to get that much blood out of the floor. Ric's body landed on the area rug with a heavy thud, and Damon shook his head enough to clear his vision and search for the Eternity Ring. He was immensely relieved when he saw that Ric was wearing it, but then seriously pissed off that the history teacher had tried to kill him in his own bed with Elena sleeping right next to him.

"Dick," he spat, kicking the body for good measure as he yanked the arrow out of his flesh. Damn, it stung like a bitch.

"Oh my God. Oh my God," Elena was babbling, as she crouched naked beside Ric's body and wept.

"He's wearing his ring, Elena," he pointed out since she seemed too distraught to process that fact.

Elena lifted the limp hand with the large signet ring and cried harder, but this time he could tell they were tears of relief.

"Oh, thank God. I don't know what we would've done if he hadn't been wearing it."

"Digging a grave in the garden to hide the body," he stated, gently pulling her away from her former guardian.

"Damon! He's our friend," she scolded.

"Friends do not sneak into friends' bedrooms at five in the morning and try to shoot them with crossbows, Elena."

"We don't know why he did that. Maybe he was compelled."

"Maybe, but I'm more inclined to think that he's still holding a grudge from the last time I snapped his neck."

"The night of the Founders' meeting?" she questioned guiltily.

"No, the night I came back to Mystic Falls after leaving you with Klaus."

"Oh," she said, dropping her eyes, but then asked, "What are we going to do?"

"_**We**_ are not going to do anything," he replied, trying to sound stern. "_**I**_ am going to carry Ric's body downstairs to the parlor and wait for him to wake up."

"What am I going to do?"

"I'd prefer it if you just stayed naked in bed, waiting for me, but somehow I doubt more sex is at the forefront of your mind right now," he answered, steering her towards the bed. She was resisting.

"Ass," she snapped.

"Yes, and you love it. You were telling me how much you loved it last night, remember?" he teased with a leer.

Much to his disappointment, she dug in her heels and refused to be herded back to bed. Instead, she stepped out of his grasp and turned to face him.

"Damon, don't do this," she begged.

He frowned. "Do what?"

"You know exactly _**what**_. You think you're going to get hurt, so you close yourself off, and get all snarky and cranky. Don't shut yourself off. I love you. Please don't push me away."

He sighed. She was right, of course. Ric coming back with his particular brand of "get away from Elena" was the last thing he wanted in an already stressful situation. He was already on the defensive.

"I'm sorry. You're right," he admitted.

She looked shocked. "I am?"

"Don't look so surprised. I have learned a thing or two in the last six years."

She smiled at him and pressed close, reaching for his hand. "So what are _**we**_ going to do?"

"I don't know. All I know is the last time I saw Ric was the night I left Mystic Falls, and he vowed to kill me. Now he's back, and the first thing he tries to do is shoot me with an arrow. Seems pretty obvious to me." That wasn't true. The last time he'd seen Ric was the Battle of San Diego, but Ric hadn't seen him, and he'd purposely avoided him to keep it that way.

"We don't know that. We should see what he says when he wakes up. Let's get dressed, and we'll both go downstairs, okay?"

"Fine," he agreed.

They pulled on some clothes, a t-shirt and jeans for him and a soft sweat set for Elena, and she followed him as he carried Ric's body downstairs and dropped it unceremoniously on one of the couches in the parlor. It was oddly reminiscent of the day he'd killed Ric at the Founder's Party, but at least this time he wasn't nervously mixing a drink because he'd fucked up. No, this time snapping Ric's neck had been entirely justified.

Even lying there dead, Ric looked older. He was still scruffy and rough around the edges, but there were more lines on his face, and he wasn't as buff as he was six years ago. He smirked at the thought of cushy Californian life making his old friend soft.

But still, seeing him after all those years was bittersweet for Damon. On one hand, he was heartily glad to see Ric, because his presence meant there was hope for salvaging their friendship. On the other, Ric's greeting had been with a lethal weapon, and that didn't bode well for shared drunken binges in the near future.

He and Elena took up their vigil seated on the couch opposite the one where Ric was laid out. They waited for nearly an hour, Elena pressed next to him, her legs curled underneath her and her arm hooked into his, until he heard the first stirrings of Ric's heart. A second later, the man was gasping for breath as his eyes flew open wide, and he scrambled to sit up. Damon waited a beat or two before offering him the glass of alcohol.

"Here. We have to stop meeting like this, Ric. People will start to talk," he said, trying to keep his voice light.

Ric scowled and moved to shove the drink away, but Damon was faster and yanked it back before it could spill. He set the tumbler down on the table – on a coaster, of course.

"You killed me again, you bastard!" Ric accused, rubbing his neck.

"You were trying to shoot me while I was sleeping in my own bed. The fact that I didn't rip your head off is a testament to how much control I have," he answered.

"You deserved it, you piece of shit."

He was trying to come up with a witty comeback to that comment when Elena preempted him by throwing herself at the former history teacher.

"Ric! I missed you so much!" she cried with a sob.

Whatever hatred and anger the man might have felt for him melted away immediately, and Damon saw his face soften as he returned Elena's hug.

"Elena," Ric whispered with relief.

Elena pulled back to look Ric in the face. "It's so good to see you. It's been so long."

"It's good to see you too. I've missed you."

As the two humans embraced and smiled at each other, Damon felt a surge of anger and protective jealousy, and he had to fight the urge to rip Ric away from Elena. He quickly realized that he was seeing the other man as a rival and a potential threat to his mate. He tried to resist, but the beast in him was growling. He hadn't realized that he'd actually audibly growled until Elena stared at him in shock.

"Damon?" she asked worriedly, and he guessed he must have appeared very predatory because he could smell the scent of fear on her.

He shook his head, trying to rein in his protective instincts and tamp down his rage.

"I'm sorry. I need…" He stopped, trying to find the words to explain what was happening.

"Damon, what's wrong? Your fangs are down," Elena said. "Damon, it's _**Ric.**_"

"I know, but…"

Realization dawned on her face, and she turned back to Ric. "He sees you as a rival. Quick, hug me like you would if I was your daughter."

"What?" Ric blurted.

"I'm pregnant. Damon's my partner and protector. You're another male. It's his instinct to drive other men away from me, but if he sees us as a father-daughter pair, he won't feel so threatened."

Trust his beautiful girl to figure out exactly what was going on and come up with a plan. God, he loved her. She might be Stepford Elena right now, but Stepford Elena was brilliant when it came to vampire management. He wondered if his Elena would be so astute.

"Unless you want me to break your neck again, I'd do as she says," he warned, trying to retract his fangs even as his beast urged him to maim and kill the other male who was touching his mate.

Elena hugged Ric, tucking her head under his chin, and he saw Ric hesitate for a moment before returning the hug. His beast growled and fumed, but he kept a leash on it, and he forced himself to watch as Ric kissed Elena on the forehead. He recognized the action as paternal, and he began to relax. Several long moments later, the desire to rip Ric's heart out faded completely, and the tension drained out of his shoulders.

"Okay. I'm okay," he announced with no small measure of relief. He hadn't wanted to hurt his former friend any more than he'd already had, especially when Ric's presence meant he had another chess piece in his master game against Klaus. He mentally added Ric to the board as a knight.

Elena smiled at him and gave Ric one more happy squeeze before sitting back. The other man cast him a suspicious glance.

"You good?" Ric asked him.

Damon took a deep breath and nodded, reaching to pour himself a drink. "Yeah. The urge to rip out your eyeballs and feed them to you is fading. Which is good coz we don't know how many Get Out of Dead Free cards that ring has in it, and I don't think we want to find out."

Ric gave him a measured look, and then turned to Elena, his eyes focused on her lower abdomen.

"So it's true then? Klaus had some guy knock you up so he could breed more doppelgangers?"

Elena placed a protective hand over her womb. "Yeah, it's true."

Ric glared at him. "Where were you when all this was happening?"

"In Italy, enjoying the local cuisine," he answered with a smirk and a salute of his drink.

Ric scowled and it looked like he was about to say something, when Elena put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Don't bait him. He's cranky when someone shoots him in the morning. What was that anyway? Did you _**want**_ him to kill you?"

"He had it coming," Ric stated firmly.

Damon shrugged and took a drink. "Fair enough."

Elena snorted and rolled her eyes. "Quit with the pissing contest, both of you. Neither of you could have done anything to stop it, and Klaus would just have killed you if you'd tried. He killed one of my closest friends among the hybrids for trying to stop it; ripped her heart out right in front of me. Do you think I wanted to see him do that to either of you?"

They both had the decency to appear contrite, and Elena sighed before leaving Ric's side and returning to his. He put an arm around her immediately. She smelled like the other man, and he needed to cover it with his own scent. Elena leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"So… the two of you…" Ric tried, a pained note in his voice.

"I'm Damon's now," Elena replied.

Ric opened his mouth, but Damon shot him the "not now" glare, and it was a testament to the friendship they'd once shared that Ric recognized and honored it.

"I see."

"My scent was driving everyone crazy- his hybrids, his family members, even Stefan. They all kept trying to kill me, so Klaus gave me to Damon for my own protection."

She tilted her face to gaze adoringly at him, and he wanted to shoot himself in the head because he couldn't help mooning back at her like a lovesick sap.

"We're together now, and we're going to be a family," she added dreamily, still smiling up at him.

"Right, because murdering psychopaths make great boyfriends," Ric snapped.

"Ric," Elena warned.

"Sorry, sorry. Playing nice, promise!" the other man apologized, finally reaching for the drink Damon had poured him.

There was a crease in his former friend's forehead that suggested he had a headache, and Damon wondered if he should have mixed the other drink because it had aspirin in it. Then he got angry for feeling any sympathy for the guy who had just shot him and called him a murdering psychopath.

"So. What brings you to Mystic Falls, Ric?" he asked, putting added emphasis on the "k" sound.

"I heard you'd come back," the man replied, taking a swig of the whiskey. "What? I still have connections. I'm a Council Member, remember?"

"Who told you?" he demanded, wondering who else had been alerted to his presence there.

"Liz. She called to tell me she'd run into you and Elena at the food store. She knew how I was after… Elena disappeared. Frankly, I think she was looking for help in tracking down Caroline. She said you told her she and Tyler were last seen in Chicago."

He frowned. "I hope you discouraged her away from that suicide mission."

"I told her Caroline was a vampire and could take care of herself, and she'd only end up dead if she tried to find her. But, c'mon man, it's her _**daughter**_. You had to know what telling her that would do to her."

"She thought Caroline was dead. I thought I was helping by telling her she wasn't," he explained.

Ric made a sound of agreement and took another drink. "I get that, but you woke the sleeping giant, man."

"I'll deal with Liz if I have to, but for now, my focus is Elena."

"Yeah, I can see that."

There was an edge of disapproval in his voice that rubbed Damon the wrong way, and caused him to bristle. Elena responded by rubbing his chest to soothe him.

"Damon, I'm tired."

He gazed down at her and gave her his best "I'm a great boyfriend" smile. "Of course you are, baby. You're sleeping for two. Why don't you go back up to bed, and I'll join you in a little while?"

She frowned and tugged on his hand. "Why don't you come back to bed with me?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Because if I did that, you wouldn't get any sleep."

She giggled and kissed him on the cheek. "Sounds good to me."

"No, no. You need your rest. Growing a new human being is hard work. Besides, Ric and I have a lot of catching up to do."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste, but he stopped her protest with a kiss.

"We'll play nice, I promise. No bloodshed, no broken furniture. Cross my heart," he assured her, with his "trust me" expression on his face.

"You won't kill him again?" she pressed.

He blanched, but nodded. "I promise."

She gave him a look that said she didn't believe him, but reluctantly rose to her feet.

"I'm trusting you to be the adult here," she said to Ric, wagging a finger at him.

"I'll behave and refrain from trying to kill him, for your sake," the other man promised.

"Thank you."

She bent down and gave Damon a tender kiss on the lips, and then she waved good night to Ric before heading out of the parlor towards the stairs. As soon as she was out of the room, Ric started to speak, but Damon put a finger to his lips, and Ric wisely remained quiet. He held the same finger up to signal Ric to wait as he listened for Elena's footsteps to go up the stairs, down the hall and into his bedroom. When he was certain that she was safely out of hearing range, he lowered his hand and turned to his former friend.

"She's been compelled," he said.

"And you're sleeping with her?" Ric shot back.

He shook his head. "It's not like that."

"Really? Because the only way Elena Gilbert would ever sleep with you is if she was compelled."

He snarled and counted to ten because, at that moment, he desperately wanted to punch Ric in the face, but he'd promised Elena no bloodshed.

'_If I didn't break his nose, there'd be no blood…'_

"It. Is. Not. Like. That," he insisted.

"Why don't you explain to me how it is then?"

"Klaus has compelled her to obey me and be the perfect vampire's girlfriend."

"Not hearing the part where your sleeping with her isn't rape."

He was on Ric in a flash, grasping the front of his shirt and lifting him up, his nose millimeters from his face. "I am _**not**_ raping her. I _**love**_ her. And she _**has**_ given her consent."

"How can she if she's compelled?"

"We have work arounds. I can't break the compulsion the usual way because Klaus compelled her to vomit if she even smells vervain, and all the herbs I could use to break it otherwise are dangerous to the baby. But there are other ways to loosen its hold on her, and we've been using those."

"So was that her just now or the compulsion?"

He dropped Ric to the couch and ran a nervous hand through his hair. "The compulsion. She doesn't have complete control yet, but Klaus's hold on her is weakening. All the same, we can't talk freely around her until we're sure it's broken completely. I'm not convinced that she won't go tattling to Klaus."

"Are you serious?"

He sat on the edge of the cocktail table and reached for his drink. "Unfortunately, yes."

"And you still think sleeping with her is okay?"

"Like I said, she's given her consent."

"I don't believe it, and you shouldn't either, you ass. Are you so desperate to have her that you'd take advantage of her like that? You're a fucking son-of-a-bitch. I should've killed you when I had the chance."

He scowled and tried hard not to shatter the glass in his hand against Ric's face.

'_No bloodshed. No bloodshed. No bloodshed.'_

"What are you really doing here, Ric?" he demanded, changing the subject. There was no sense in trying to make him see the man when all he saw was the monster. The saddest part was that Ric had seen the man in the monster once, and his "friend" hadn't even acknowledged that he was there.

"To be honest, I thought I'd kill you and take Elena, but if Klaus has her mind fucked, I can't be sure she won't go all Patty Hearst on me and call Klaus."

"Smart man."

"But I am going to try to convince her to at least get away from you."

"Yeah, good luck with that."

"She'll listen to me. She always did. You're bad for her, and you know it. That's why you aren't killing me now," Ric challenged.

He vamped out and rounded on Ric again, grabbing the man by the neck and applying pressure to his chin.

"No, I'm not killing you because I promised Elena I wouldn't, and I don't want to disappoint her."

Ric had the good sense to be afraid. He knew as well as Damon did that the Eternity Ring was unlikely to bring him back if his head was ripped off.

"I'm also not locking you up in the basement, against my better judgment I might add, because I want to give you the benefit of the doubt that you aren't a complete moron. I could really use your help here, but if you're going to be a dick about it, I'll have no choice but to remove you from the equation. I've changed, Ric. I don't play games anymore. You get in my way, and you're dead."

With that he released Ric and let him collapse back onto the sofa again.

"Feel free to stick around. I've locked up the good stuff so go ahead and help yourself to what's left in the liquor cabinet. There're five extra bedrooms; crash in one if you want." He made a point of sniffing. "Smells like you need a shower, too. I'm going back to bed."

He left Ric half sprawled on the couch as he stalked out of the parlor in a snit, but his anger faded to grief as he made his way up the stairs. He desperately needed his Elena so he lit the coltsfoot as soon as he entered the bedroom and refreshed the rosemary oil in an infuser over the lamp. Elena was in bed. She'd changed out of her sweats into a sleeveless nightgown, but she wasn't asleep, and he didn't bother to undress as he went to her and buried his face in her hair. Her arms came around him, holding him close as a hand stroked his head.

"What did he say to you?" she tenderly whispered, her lips against the cusp of his ear. "Tell me, David."

David. Her codename to tell him that it was his Elena and not her alter ego. She must have been waiting just under the surface for her to have come out so soon. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he still felt the tears that leaked out.

"Nothing," he answered, but he knew she could hear the lie in the word.

"Don't lie to me. We're past that."

He couldn't look at her as he choked it out. "He thinks that I'm taking advantage of you."

Her hand in his hair stilled, and her body went stiff. "He said that?"

"The word rape was actually used," he confessed.

She gasped and moved her hands moved to his shoulders, pushing him back until she could see his face.

"You know that's not true, right?"

He nodded as he curled a lock of her hair around his finger.

"David, tell me you know that's not true."

"I know," he replied, but his eyes were still damp, and he didn't sound convinced even to himself.

Elena cupped his face and kissed him, her eyes soft and full of the love he'd never dared hope to see there shining for him.

"Baby, it isn't true. It isn't. I want you just as much as you want me."

"He said the only way you'd ever sleep with me is if you were compelled."

"I'm going to kick him in his judgmental balls, but right now you need to know that I'm here with you willingly and by my choice."

She kissed him again, before pushing him onto his back and crawling down towards his hips. She was unzipping his jeans with the clear intent to go down on him when he stopped her.

"No," he whispered harshly. He couldn't tell her why he didn't want her to continue, only that he wanted her in his arms right then, so he reached for her and prayed she would understand.

She honored his wish, but only enough to crawl back up his body and straddle him. Her hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, tugging it up, and he lifted his torso enough for her to pull it over his head. She dropped it to the floor and tossed her nightgown next to it.

She'd been naked under the thin satin, and now she sat astride him, curling over him as she stroked his hair, her eyes smoky and intent. His gaze moved down to her breasts, hovering not far from his face, and he ached to take one into his mouth, but he was frozen in place. This was her show. She was in control, and he was letting her do whatever she wanted to him.

She unzipped his jeans the rest of the way, and raised her body up enough to push the denim off his hips. He hadn't bothered with underwear, so her hand was on his length right away, lifting him into place as she lowered herself down onto him. He choked on a gasp as he was sheathed within her, and he gripped the sheets beneath him in both hands.

She rode him like she had something to prove, tightening her muscles around him with each down-stroke, and he clenched the pillows to keep himself from taking hold of her waist. It was insane. There was a potential enemy with access to all kinds of weapons in the house, and here he was allowing himself to be compromised by this Siren of a woman who he knew would eventually be the death of him. Yet, somehow, he didn't care because she was hot, tight, and wet around him, and he was the closest he had ever been to pure happiness in over a century.

"Elena…" he breathed, arching his hips up to meet her, matching his movements with hers in perfect time.

She bent back her spine until she was upright, her body stretched taut above him, as her hands found her own nipples and pinched them. He groaned and lost all sense of reason. He lifted his knees, kicking off his jeans in the process, and cupped her ass in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his head as he sat up, burying his face in her breasts and taking one hard nipple into his mouth. She still controlled their rhythm, moving on him as he gave her the support she needed to let loose, and they climbed together, moaning and gasping.

He heard her make the little half-purr, half-groan she always made right before she climaxed, and it was sexy as hell. Hearing it always made him twitch in anticipation of feeling her clench around him, and sure enough she bore down one more time and came when he hit her g-spot.

"Damon!" she shouted, shuddering in his embrace.

He growled and thrust up, pushing himself in as far as he could go before allowing himself to come with a strangled cry as his orgasm ripped through him. He held himself up for one more extended moment, then collapsed down to the mattress. Elena fell with him, covering him with her sweat-soaked body, his cock still inside her, and they lay there in a heap, slowly coming down from the high.

He was euphoric, his blood singing from his climax, and all he wanted to do was crawl inside her and never leave. Her breast was next to his face so he took her nipple into his mouth again, suckling gently. All too soon, she would be breastfeeding her newborn, and he was more than willing to help "prepare" her nipples to tolerate the baby's sucking. Besides, she liked it, and it turned her on, which usually led to more sex.

Not this time, however, as she groaned tiredly and rolled off him. He thought she was going to snuggle up to him, but she urged him to roll onto his side and tuck his head under her chin instead. He understood that she was trying to comfort cuddle him, and he didn't mind, so he pressed his cheek into the crook of her shoulder and draped an arm across her. He couldn't resist reaching up to palm one of her breasts and cup it in his hand, brushing his thumb over her nipple.

"Stop that," she said wearily.

"Stop what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Playing with my boob. I'm on to you, and I'm too tired for another round."

"Sorry. I can't help it. You have me well and truly snared by your feminine charms," he admitted, tucking his hand under the fold of her breast.

"Mmm hmmm, you sweet talking, bullshitter you."

"You caught me."

Her arm came around his shoulders, holding him close. "I know," she said, kissing his brow and stroking his hair tenderly. "I love you."

He could never get enough of hearing her say that, and he shivered every time she did. "I love you, too."

"We'll get through this, I promise. We survive. We always survive."

"Yes, we do," he agreed, closing his eyes and letting her scent and warmth lull him to sleep.

He woke three hours later to the sound of a car coming up the Boarding House's driveway. It was too far away for human ears to hear, but his heightened senses picked up on the sound of tires rolling on asphalt well before any vehicle would come into view. A glance at the clock revealed that it was after ten. He sat up in bed, smiling when he saw that he and Elena had switched positions, and now he was spooning her with his arm around her waist. His movement woke her, and she peered at him sleepily with half-closed eyes.

"Damon?"

"Someone's coming," he told her, already moving to get out of bed.

He dressed quickly, pulling on the jeans and t-shirt he wore earlier, and left the bedroom. Elena followed him shortly, clothed in the same sweats she had also worn after Ric's earlier intrusion, and he motioned for her to stay behind him as he moved silently down the steps. The car had stopped in front of the house and someone was getting out. There was only one heartbeat, slightly elevated, but the fumes from the car were obscuring the scent.

Ric was at the bottom of the stairs when he and Elena reached the landing. It appeared that he had heard the car, too, from wherever he'd been in the house. From his rumpled clothes and messy hair, Damon guessed he'd been sleeping on the couch. He put a finger to his lips to warn Ric to be quiet and motioned for him to protect Elena. Ric obeyed without question and drew Elena closer to him, putting her behind him as Damon moved closer to the door and reached for the sword that he kept in the umbrella stand in the entryway. He was pretty sure whatever he was facing was human and decapitation worked every time.

Footsteps approached the heavy wooden door, and Damon took the opportunity to throw it open before whoever it was could knock or reach for the knob. Who he saw standing there on the other side was one of the last people he'd expected to see, and he had to blink twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Junior Gilbert?" he said with disbelief, as he took in the sight of Elena's younger brother standing there dressed in a brown leather bomber jacket and dark jeans.

"Jeremy?" Elena blurted, pushing past Ric to see who was in the doorway.

The younger Gilbert flashed a huge grin when he saw his sister and stepped into the house without so much as a wary glance at the vampire partially blocking his way.

"Elena."

"Jeremy!" Elena cried, as she ran to him and threw her arms around her brother.

Her hug was enthusiastically returned until Jeremy looked up and saw the former history teacher. "Ric?"

"Hey, Jer," Ric replied, sheepishly.

"When did you get here?" Junior asked.

The ex-teacher rubbed the back of his neck. "A few hours ago."

"He brought us a crossbow wake-up call," Damon said, closing the door and moving past the hugging siblings to enter the parlor. He was definitely going to need a drink for this family reunion.

Jeremy pried himself from Elena's arms and faced Ric, disappointment written all over his face. "Ric, man, I told you to wait for me to get here."

"You knew he was coming?" Damon questioned, pouring himself a hearty dose of bourbon.

"Yeah. He called me a couple of weeks ago to tell me you guys were back in Mystic Falls. I told him I'd come down after summer session at NYU was over," Jeremy answered.

Junior Gilbert was taller, broader, and had filled out rather nicely in the last six years, and he held himself with the confidence of someone who knew how to fight. Damon was impressed and very glad to see the younger man, although he wasn't about to admit it aloud. He added Jeremy to the chessboard as a rook and offered the young man a drink.

"Thanks," Jeremy said, accepting the tumbler of whiskey.

"So, to what do we owe this honor? I mean, I love a good family reunion and all, but what are you both doing here?" he asked.

"Damon, don't be an ass," Elena scolded. "Jeremy, it's so great to see you. I missed you so much."

She hugged her brother again, but his eyes met Damon's over her shoulder, and his expression was serious.

"It's wonderful to see you, too, sis. I've missed you, too, but Damon's right. This isn't a social call."

Elena pulled away from her brother and regarded him curiously, as Damon moved into a protective position just behind his mate. Jeremy looked nervous, and then his eyes took on a far away quality, as if he was listening to someone. When he came back from wherever he'd gone, he tightened his lips and gazed right at Damon.

"Bonnie says hi."

* * *

A/N: YES, I **know** Damon calls Jeremy "Little Gilbert" in the show, but here in the Queen/King universe, he calls him "Junior Gilbert."


	12. Chapter 12

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, Kate C, and Layla Reyne

* * *

Chapter Twelve

"So let me get this straight," Damon said, pacing while Junior and Ric occupied one of the sofas in the parlor. Elena was standing, but she was getting that pinched look on her face that told him that her ankles were bothering her. If she didn't sit down soon, he'd call her on it, but right now he was dealing with the latest bomb that had been dropped on his life. "You've been seeing _**ghosts**_ for the last six years?"

"Bonnie was warned that there would be consequences for bringing me back from the dead the night Sheriff Forbes shot me. Seeing ghosts apparently was part of it," Jeremy explained.

"Okay. Okay. Hold that thought. Just… gimme a minute," he stated, stalking to the kitchen.

Thankfully, Elena stayed behind in the parlor, probably to talk to her baby bro and the former history teacher, so he was free to brew a cup of her tea. He doubled the normal dose of herbs, then reached into the cabinet under the sink, his hand feeling for the small, glass vial he'd hidden under there.

Pulling out the little bottle, he stared at the greenish liquid inside it. He'd brewed the absinthe himself from wormwood leaves and flowers, green anise, and other herbs. It was a potent concoction, and dangerous to use, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If the conversation that was about to happen in the parlor covered even a fraction of the subjects he thought it would, he had to send Stepford Elena so far into the dungeon she couldn't even hear herself think.

With great trepidation, he uncorked the bottle and carefully put five drops of the spirit into the tea with an eyedropper. He prayed silently to a god he wasn't even sure existed that it worked, otherwise they were all screwed if and when Klaus appeared, after his little mole spilled her guts to him. He added the requisite drizzle of honey, and gave the tea a good stir before returning to the parlor with the steaming mug. He handed the cup to Elena who was sitting down next to Jeremy on the sofa.

"What have I missed?" he asked with a smile.

"Well, Jeremy was telling me all about life in the big city," Elena answered, taking a sip of the tea. Her eyes widened as soon as she tasted it. "Oooh, what's in this? It tastes different."

"Anise. Gives it a bit of licorice flavor," he replied glibly.

"Hmm. It tastes like those thin cookies. You know, the Italian ones that look like snowflakes?"

"Pizzelles?" he offered.

"Yeah, those. I love those. This tastes good. I like it with the anise," she told him, drinking more.

'_Don't get used to it,'_ he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Instead, he drew his mouth into a tight line and sat down on the opposite sofa. "So, Jeremy, how has college life been treating you?"

"Good. It's good. I took classes over the summer because I want to graduate in May, and I needed some extra credits for my Environmental Studies minor."

Elena took her brother's hand and rubbed it fondly. "Jeremy was saying how he got a job with a stage crew that makes sets for Broadway shows."

"Yeah, it's fun. I've gotten into some of the hottest shows that way," the young man said, smiling shyly.

"That's odd," Damon commented, crossing one ankle over his knee. "You never struck me as the Broadway musical type."

The younger Gilbert shrugged. "I like to draw, and I like music, and some of the productions are actually pretty cool."

"Well, it's always good to have a hobby that doesn't involve bloodshed," Damon quipped, reaching for his drink. He needed a refill. So did Ric, he noticed.

"I still train. Ric and I get together a couple of times a year, and every now and then I've run into vampires. You'd be surprised how many there are in New York."

"Big cities make good hunting grounds. Lots of prey, lots of little lost nobodies that fall through the cracks," he stated, standing and going over to the table with the decanter. He poured himself two fingers of bourbon, then brought the bottle over to Ric and replenished his. "Vampires feed well in a city like that, and New York…" he whistled appreciatively. "Lots of wannabe dancers and models. Yummy."

Ric snorted. "You haven't changed a bit."

The words cut deep because it seemed like the friendship he and Alaric had shared was completely gone. He'd held out some small hope that a tiny bit of the camaraderie that they'd once shared was still there, but it looked like he'd been hoping in vain. Ric hated him, but at least Junior seemed to have forgiven him for his trespasses.

"Vampire, Ric," he shot back. "Feed on blood. Can I help it if I prefer the taste of a fresh, young woman who treats her body like a temple?" He smirked, and saluted with his glass, as he set the decanter back on the table and resumed his seat.

"Sure, another unsuspecting innocent who falls for your lies and charms," Ric scoffed. "What's one more girl to add to the list of all the ones you've taken advantage of?"

He was thinking up a suitable response when he saw Elena turn to Ric and slap him across the face. The resounding crack of her hand on the other man's cheek echoed in the suddenly quiet room, and all three of them stared at her in shock.

"That's enough," she growled, standing up. "I don't want to hear another word from you about Damon taking advantage of anyone."

She made her way over to Damon, and he stood to meet her as she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him.

"Hi, babe," he greeted with a smile, hugging her back.

"Hi."

"How're you feeling?" he asked, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort or struggle.

"Okay. I'm tired, but that's nothing new," Elena answered, then sighed when Damon rubbed tiny circles into her back with his thumbs.

"Would someone like to explain what just happened?" Ric demanded, rubbing his jaw.

They separated, but stood shoulder to shoulder as they presented a unified front.

"I think it's fairly obvious what just happened. I hit you for being a jerk. I know I haven't seen you in six years, Ric, but the man I remember was smarter than that," Elena chided, her arms crossed over her chest.

"It was the tea," Jeremy interrupted. "It breaks the compulsion."

Damon smirked. "Ghost Witch filling you in, Junior?"

Jeremy's expression grew far away again, and then he nodded. "Something like that, but Ric texted me last night about what you'd told him."

"It's only temporary. I don't have complete control yet, but I will admit that brew seemed more potent. What did you put in it that was different?" Elena asked.

"Five drops of absinthe," he confessed.

"Absinthe? Really?" Ric blurted, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"It's not enough to do any harm, but I needed that cup to have an extra kick," he assured them.

"Ric, I'm fine. Damon wouldn't hurt me."

"So says the girl he left with an Original Hybrid to use as his personal blood bag," Ric said contemptuously.

"His doing that saved all of your lives. Klaus would've found out I was still alive, he would've come for me, and he would've killed anyone who tried to get in his way," she countered.

"We could've come up with an alternative if he'd given us the chance," Ric insisted.

"For the record, Operation Eternal Road Trip was _**my**_ first choice, but Little Miss Martyr wouldn't leave any of you behind, and I wasn't going to steal a Winnebago to take all of you along," Damon informed, pleased with his own Buffy reference.

Elena shook her head. "Klaus would've just found us, and if we'd split up, he would've hunted us all down and used whoever he caught to force me to turn myself over to him.

"So you honestly believe that his only choice was to abandon you with Klaus?" Ric argued.

"Yes, and I came to understand that more and more the longer I was with Klaus," Elena explained. "Klaus is ruthless and relentless. He has connections all over the world, and witches that do his bidding. There would've been nowhere we could've hidden where we would've been safe. Running was hopeless. I understand that now. And Damon didn't abandon me with Klaus. Stefan was there. He was depending on Stefan to protect me. Damon had no idea that Klaus would compel Stefan to turn off his humanity, or that Stefan would betray Bonnie and Caroline and turn them over to Klaus when they came to rescue me."

"I should've suspected, though, given my baby bro's history, but I didn't think he'd turned it off completely because he was still trying to put the bodies back together," Damon said.

"It wasn't off completely. There were moments… The night you left me with him. He was very upset."

Damon grimaced. "I know. I got the voicemails."

He put his arm around Elena and drew her close. They'd chitchatted enough, and now was the time to get to the serious part of the morning. "So? Are we good for this conversation then?" he asked her.

Elena looked up at him, a little frown on her face. "I don't think so. I think the less I know the better."

His eyes flew open wide, and he cocked his head. "Elena Gilbert not wanting to be the one making all the decisions? Will wonders never cease?"

"Don't be an ass."

He grinned and kissed her forehead. "Yes, dear."

"Pffft."

"So I guess we'll have to wait until you go up for your nap then," he stated as gently as he could. He hated to exclude her, but if she was uncertain, then it was best to trust her and take her at face value.

"Yeah. We can't take the chance of her knowing what I know."

"Okay then. I'll make breakfast," he offered.

She gave him a pleading look, and he knew what she was going to ask before she'd even said a word.

"Blueberry-pecan pancakes?" she requested, her predictability making him smirk.

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Then that's what you'll get. Blueberry-pecan pancakes with eggs and corned beef hash."

"And fresh biscuits with strawberry jam?"

"And fresh biscuits with strawberry jam," he agreed.

She wrapped both arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his collarbone. He drew her close and hugged her, nuzzling her hair.

"Thank you. You're too good to me," she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"It's the trade-off for putting up with my snarky ass."

She looked up at him, her eyes loving, and cupped his cheek in her palm. "One of these days we're going to talk about your sense of self-worth, but for now I'm hungry so get cooking Salvatore."

"Yes, m'lady."

He let her go reluctantly and left her in the parlor with her brother and his former best friend. His instincts were telling him not to leave her alone with two adult males, but they were family and – for better or for worse – he trusted them not to hurt his mate. He dialed up his vampire hearing, however, as he entered the kitchen and began gathering the ingredients to make breakfast. He kept one ear out for her as he started coffee brewing, his body ready to drop everything and rush to her defense if he heard any hint of distress.

"You're looking good," he heard Jeremy compliment.

"Yeah. I feel good most of the time. I'm tired a lot, but the doctor says that's normal."

"The baby's doing okay?"

"Yeah. I'm having a girl. I got a picture from the ultrasound I had last week. I'll go get it."

"No, that's okay. You can show it to me later. Right now we want to talk to you."

"You do know that Damon can hear us even when he's in the kitchen, right?" she reminded.

"Maybe we should put on some music or something then," Ric suggested.

Damon tensed, about to go vamp speeding back there to show Ric the error of his ways, when Elena did it for him.

"No. I'm done making plans behind Damon's back. We're in this together, and I won't cut him out of the loop. Whatever you have to say to me, you can say with him hearing it."

Her words filled him with pride, and he smiled as he started the corned beef hash browning in a skillet and mixed the pancake batter in a bowl.

"Elena, we just want to make sure that this is the best thing for you," Ric said.

"Being here with Damon is the best thing for me. If you try to take me away from him, Klaus will kill you both, and you know it. He'll find out, he'll hunt us down, kill you, and take me back. I do _**not**_ want that."

"Bonnie says she can hide us. She can draw on the power of her witch ancestors and keep Klaus from finding us," Jer said.

"And what? Leave Damon to face Klaus once he finds out I'm gone? No. If Damon isn't included in the plan, I'm not going. Period."

"Elena, he left you with Klaus in the first place!" Ric argued.

"And it killed him to do so, but it was the only way. Now, I'm doing what I should have done six years ago. I'm trusting Damon. If he changes his mind after what you have to tell him this afternoon, I'll go along with whatever he thinks is best, but until then, I'm staying put."

"Elena…"

"You're ignoring the fact that I _**want**_ to be with him. Damon is good to me. He takes very good care of me, and there isn't anyone else I'd rather be doing this with. We're partners. Lovers. I love him."

Damon paused in his pouring of the batter onto the hot griddle as his dead heart skipped a beat. She'd just admitted her love for him to her brother and Ric, and he almost couldn't contain the rush of joy that raced through him. Elena loved him, and she wasn't afraid to tell her family.

"Love, Elena? Are you sure?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes. Yes, Jer, I'm sure. To be honest, I've loved him for a while. I should've admitted it six years ago, but I was too much of a coward."

"I saw it. I saw how you were starting to look at him," Ric admitted after a moment of pensive silence. "The two of you grew so much closer after Stefan left with Klaus."

"Yes. And part of the reason why I wouldn't admit what was happening between Damon and me was because I was afraid you would disapprove, and I didn't want you to be disappointed."

"Elena, it wasn't Damon I didn't want you to be with. I didn't want you to be with any vampire. I wanted you to be able to have a normal life."

"I was never going to have a normal life, Ric. I understand that now. Even if I'd never met Stefan or Damon, I'm a Petrova doppelganger. Klaus would have found me eventually, or Katherine. Either way, I would've been sucked into the world of the supernatural. At least with Stefan and Damon, I had people who loved me and wanted to protect me. Without Stefan and Damon, and even Bonnie and Caroline, to help me, things with Klaus would've gone very differently."

He was focusing so much on Elena's words that he forgot about breakfast, and the pancakes started burning. He scraped them off the griddle with a curse and dumped them into the trashcan. He then wiped off the cast iron surface, re-greased it, and poured a fresh set of pancakes on the hot metal.

"So you're okay with this?" Jeremy questioned.

"No, I'm not okay with this. I'm not okay with any of it. Klaus compelled me to have sex with a stranger so he could get me pregnant, then he compelled me to obey Damon and make him happy. My mind and my life are not my own, but, with that being said, I'm making the best of it. I refuse to resent my baby for being conceived. I refuse to blame Damon for my compulsion. I know he's doing everything he can to help me overcome it, and he's working on a way to break it completely."

"If he's using absinthe, he must be desperate," Ric commented, clearly still irritated that Damon had used the elixir at all.

"Damon would never use something that was dangerous to me or my baby. He's more protective of me now than he ever was before."

"Bonnie says the dose he put in the tea was safe enough," Jer informed.

"See, even Bonnie agrees with me. How is Bonnie? Does she… does she forgive me for what happened?"

"Yeah. She doesn't blame you. She knows what happened wasn't your fault. She doesn't even blame Damon. He warned her not to go after Klaus, and she didn't listen."

"It's so weird that you can see ghosts. Do you ever see anyone other than Bonnie?"

"Yeah."

"Have you seen Aunt Jenna?" she asked in a shy voice.

"No. I've never seen her, but I have seen Anna and Vicki. And Mason Lockwood."

"Mason Lockwood?"

"Yeah, he wanted me to help him contact Tyler, but by then it was too late. He'd gone after you with Bonnie and Caroline, and none of you ever came back."

The conversation in the parlor was wading into dangerous waters, so Damon wrapped up breakfast and called out.

"Breakfast is almost ready, guys, which means I need someone to set the table!"

"Coming!" Elena answered.

"No, Elena. You stay put. We'll get the plates and stuff," Jeremy offered.

Elena snorted. "I'm pregnant, Jer, not an invalid."

Damon heard her get up and come walking towards the kitchen, and he quickly vamp sped to have the plates stacked up and ready for her to grab once she arrived.

"God, those smell good. Can I have one right off the griddle?" she said as she came in, then he saw her spy the batter bowl. "Ohhhh, pancake batter!"

He zipped over and grabbed the bowl, whisking it out of her grasp. "Ah ah ah! Raw eggs are bad for Baby! You could get salmonella poisoning."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "As if you wouldn't smell it well before then."

He shrugged. "True, but why take chances?"

He set the bowl in the sink, but snagged a hot pancake off the griddle and slid it onto a plate, cutting it with a fork and offering her a bite.

"Careful, it's hot," he warned as she leaned in to eat it.

She grabbed the morsel with her teeth, her eyes closing in pleasure as she drew it into her mouth, and the little moan she made went straight to his groin. Then he watched – transfixed – as she licked the fork clean.

"Mmmm, so good. You spoil me. I love it."

He almost forgot that they had guests. He wanted to take her right there because kitchen sex was amazing, but Junior Gilbert coming in squashed all his amorous intentions. She knew what she'd done, too, because she batted her doe eyes at him and gave him a secret smile. He wanted to growl and smack her ass for being such a tease. She just winked at him, all sultry and female charm, and then picked up the stack of plates and utensils and gave him a good view of her backside as she carted them out to the table.

"Here, make yourself useful," he said, handing Jeremy a plate piled high with steaming pancakes.

The boy looked at him, then his eyes opened wide, and he shook his head slightly. Damon, always observant, noticed the motion immediately.

"What is it?"

Jeremy shook his head more firmly. "Not now. Later."

"Witchy ghost have something to say?

"Something like that."

"Do I need to find the pottery wheel somewhere in the basement?"

"It doesn't work that way."

"Whatever. I am sure Bitchy Witchy will let me know what she thinks. She always did."

"She doesn't hate you, you know. She forgave you. But she knows you haven't forgiven yourself."

"Get the pancakes to the table. They suck when they're cold."

Ric came in and Damon handed him the platter of corned beef hash without a word. Elena came back in for the coffee. He gave her the mugs and handed the pot of hot coffee to Junior who came in behind her. When Ric came back, he gave the man the tray with the sugar, cream, butter and syrup. He followed last with the scrambled eggs and returned for the juice glasses and OJ.

Breakfast was a pleasant affair. No matter what Junior Gilbert or his former best friend thought of him, they were playing nice for Elena's sake and enjoying the food because he was an awesome cook, after all. About half way through the meal, he went back into the kitchen to heat himself up a bag of blood, which he poured into a glass for appearances' sake. When he returned, most of the food was gone, and Elena was looking well fed and sated. There was a light in her eyes that he hadn't seen since before he'd left her with Klaus, and he saw her face beam with happiness as she laughed at something Jeremy said.

He watched them from the doorway, sipping his blood and enjoying the scene before him: the happy family reunited, except he wasn't part of it anymore. He had been, during that last summer when it had been just the four of them. He and Ric had played at being parents to two teenagers, although half the time he felt like he was parenting Ric too. The man was a hopeless slob. He used to go over to the Gilbert house regularly to prepare meals, leaving them in marked containers in the refrigerator and freezer with instructions on how to heat them up. Two nights a week were "family" nights where he would cook dinner then spend the evening playing cards, board games or video games. Ric was a decent poker player, and not half bad at chess. He'd been teaching Junior Gilbert the finer points of bluffing, and how to read the other players' tells, before Elena's birthday and the trip to Tennessee. Before everything went to hell.

For a brief time, a few short months, he'd belonged. Before his "family" had woken up and realized he was a ruthless killer, before Elena had found his secret closet of news clippings – what was Blondie doing in his bedroom anyway? – before he had to chase down his baby bro because Elena refused to give up the search. For one summer, he'd had a family again, and he'd forgotten how good it felt to be wanted, needed and cared for.

He smiled a bittersweet smile and looked down into his mostly empty glass, knocking back the last of the blood in one gulp. The sound of empty plates being stacked up drew his attention to the table, and he moved forward to help gather the dirty dishes to take them to the kitchen. Elena gave him a fond, sweet look that spoke of approval and quiet affection, and he returned the feeling to her in spades as he took the plates.

By unspoken agreement, they all cleared the table, working together in the seamless way that they'd developed during that last summer. Each of them had their "job." Jeremy brought in the leftovers while Elena carried in the glasses, mugs and used silverware. Ric cleared off the table and wiped it down. He rinsed off the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, separating out the glassware that he wanted to hand wash. He scrubbed the skillet and cleaned the griddle, leaving them both to dry.

He made Elena another cup of her tea, adding only three drops of absinthe this time and putting some tummy soothers in because, while her morning sickness was much better, she did still get queasy sometimes. He brought it into the parlor where they had all gathered again, and he set the mug down on the table for her before going to the liquor cart to pour himself and Ric new tumblers of bourbon.

"Pour me one too?" Jeremy asked, making him lift his head to look at the boy.

"Really, Junior?" he asked.

"Hey, I'm legal now," Jeremy argued.

Damon scoffed. "Like I care about that. Looks like Obi Wan Saltzman is teaching you the finer points of day drinking between how to kick vampire ass lessons," he replied as he fished out a third glass from the shelf under the cart and poured a serving of bourbon into it. At this rate, he'd be out of Pappy's in no time.

"Like Jimmy Buffett says, its five o'clock somewhere," the boy quipped, holding out a hand to accept the glass.

He chuckled as he put Ric's glass down on the table, and he was about to go sit on one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace when Elena's hand snaked out to grab his wrist and urged him to sit beside her. Ignoring the pang in his heart, he obeyed and lowered himself to the sofa cushions. She tucked her legs under her and leaned into him as he draped the throw blanket from the back of the couch over her. Even with a fire going in the hearth the old house was cool and drafty. She snuggled up and rested her arm across his lap, her cheek against his shoulder. He balanced his chin on the top of her head and tried not to notice Ric's scowl. Ric disapproving of him, however, wasn't nearly as disconcerting as the pensive look on Junior's face, and he wondered what the Dead Witch Project was whispering in the boy's ear.

"That was an excellent breakfast. Thank you, Damon," Elena said.

He wrapped a possessive arm around her and smirked at the two men sitting across from them. "Gotta feed my baby right so she has everything she needs for her baby," he answered proudly.

"Meh, right now this baby feels like she's going into a carbohydrate coma."

He made a sympathetic sound and rubbed her back, relishing in the feel of her pressing closer and her soft sigh.

"Have you thought of a name yet, Elena?" Junior asked.

She shifted a little and moved a hand down to stroke her lower abdomen. "I was thinking Miranda Jennifer, you know, for Mom and Aunt Jenna."

"That's a good name," Jeremy agreed, and Damon heard the slight tremor in the boy's voice.

If he were honest, he would admit to getting a little choked up himself. Elena and he hadn't discussed possible baby names, but in hindsight it made perfect sense that she would choose a name that would honor her deceased loved ones.

"And you're sure it's a girl?" Ric questioned.

"I'm a Petrova doppelganger. I'll only ever have girls. Some mystical doppelganger thing."

"Girls?" Ric repeated with an emphasis on the plural.

Elena frowned and rubbed her belly again. "That we don't know. I may be restricted to one baby that will carry on the doppelganger genes. Miriam wasn't sure if I'd be able to have more children."

Junior's eyes went unfocused, then sharpened on his sister a few seconds later. "Bonnie says probably not, unless something happens to your daughter. If she's killed before she has a child, and you're still able to have children, it's possible that you might be able to get pregnant again."

Elena's body went very tense, and Damon tightened the hand he had around her shoulder. He didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking, and he could smell the anger rising to the surface of her skin.

"Well, that's good to know. I wish I'd known that earlier. I have built-in doppelganger birth control. That's awesome," she said bitterly.

Junior paled, and he wanted to strangle the kid for being a jerk. Jeremy, of all people, knew how much Elena hated to have her choices taken from her.

"Elena, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that," the boy apologized.

"How should you have said it?" she snapped. "Oh, by the way, Sis, this is it. One girl for you because you had the luck to be born a mystical being whose blood is needed for all kinds of cool spells? Did you know that doppelganger blood is required for eight different binding spells, but each one is keyed to the doppelganger from a specific bloodline? Klaus will never be able to use any other doppelganger's bloodline to make hybrids. Isn't that great? My kid is doomed to be the breeding stock for a thousand-year old werewolf-vampire bastard. Awesome."

"Elena…" her brother tried again, but she cut him off with a look.

"My life: one big, supernatural freak show," she complained, pushing against Damon as she struggled to sit up. He released her slowly, not wanting to fight with her when she was angry and hurting. This was an emotional cesspool, and he didn't want to get dragged into it.

"And on _**that**_ happy note, I'm going to go lay down," she announced, tossing the blanket off of her shoulders.

He didn't stop her as she rose to her feet and began making her way towards the stairs. He threw a daggered glare at Junior as he followed her, trying not to hover, but wanting to get her settled in bed. Emotions were rolling off of her in waves: rage, pain, and despair, and it was breaking his heart to see her in such distress.

"Baby, I'm sorr…" he started as they entered their bedroom, but she stopped him with a fierce kiss.

"Don't," she said harshly, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Elena…"

"Don't talk. Don't say anything. I don't want to think," she begged, as her fingers teased his nipples.

"Ric and Junior are downstairs…"

"I don't care. Make me not think, David, please."

Her plea turned him into mush, and he obeyed, pulling her to him and kissing her thoroughly. All too soon, she was topless on the bed, and his face was between her breasts, his lips alternately teasing and sucking her nipples while she tugged on his hair. Her sweatpants came off, as did his jeans, and he moved lower so the best friends could see each other. Both were overjoyed to have a play date and wasted no time getting reacquainted. Her hands gripped the sheets as her thighs squeezed his head, her back arching as she voiced her pleasure, and then he added his fingers and rubbed her G-spot, sending her over the edge with a gasp and a cry.

After she came, he thought he was done. He was prepared to leave his need unfulfilled rather than take advantage of her while she was in such a fragile, emotional state, but she was having none of it. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him on top of her, spreading her legs wide and lifting her hips just enough to encourage him to mount her. He slid in and let the rhythmic squeezing of her walls around him dictate how hard and fast he would go.

Two more times, he brought her over the edge, each orgasm more powerful than the previous one, each a step in the deliberate short-circuiting of her brain. She wanted not to think? He would make sure she had trouble remembering her own name, but he'd be damn sure she remembered his.

He let himself go just before her last one, spilling into her as she bucked beneath him and screamed his name. He pulled out and began licking her again, trying to coax one more climax from her. Her breath was coming in short, panting sobs, but she gave over a fourth time, shuddering with a whimper before she lay still and quiet.

He crawled up beside her and gathered her to himself, kissing her brow with feather-light kisses as he stroked her hair. He smelled the tears that leaked out from behind her closed eyes, but he did not call attention to them. Instead he held her the way he knew she wanted to be held, and he sang softly to her until she was able to pull herself together.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely.

"Anytime."

She chuckled like a drunk and kissed his chin. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Baby. Sleep now. Just sleep."

"And dream of you," she murmured, half-conscious.

"Always."

He held her until he was sure she was sleeping the sleep of the sexually sated, and then he carefully slipped out of bed. He arranged her into a comfortable position and tucked the blankets around her, giving her another kiss on her forehead, and then he left her dreaming as he took a quick shower and got dressed.

He closed the bedroom door behind him as quietly as possible and headed back down to the parlor. It was time to find out why Junior and the history teacher were really there.


	13. Chapter 13

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, Kate C, and Layla Reyne

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

After he left Elena sleeping in his (_**their!**_) bed, Damon moved silently down the hallway towards the stairs. He could hear Ric and Junior talking in the parlor, and he wanted to listen in on what the Dynamic Duo were saying without them knowing he was there. He stopped at the top of the steps and dialed his hearing up to catch their harsh whispers.

"This is ridiculous. What the fuck are we doing here?" he heard Ric complain. His old friend was pacing. There was a clink and a splash, and Damon knew the history teacher had poured himself another drink.

"Ric, that's enough. You can't be drunk right now," Junior scolded.

"Why not? What I want to know is how you can stay sober while that monster is upstairs screwing your sister. You _**know**_ that's what they're doing up there."

"I know," Jeremy admitted with a resigned sigh.

"Drink then?"

Damon heard the sloshing of the bourbon in the decanter.

"No. He's giving her what she needs. I may not like it or agree with it, but it's her life, and I have to respect her choices."

"Did you miss the part where Klaus has compelled her to obey him and Damon?" Ric reminded.

"I know, but Damon is doing what he can to break the compulsion. Bonnie tells me the herbs he's putting in the tea are genuine, and she says he's been burning rosemary and coltsfoot. They'll clear my sister's head as well."

Ric snorted. "Hopefully they'll clear it enough for her to stake that son-of-a-bitch in his sleep and run away with us."

"Ric stop it. I know you're still mad at him for what he did, but everything we've learned since then has proved him right. If he hadn't left her with Klaus, we'd all be dead."

"You don't know that."

"No, but Bonnie does. She forgave Damon. Whatever happened that night in Klaus's house convinced Bonnie that Damon had been right," Junior answered with the air of someone who has argued the point over and over and is losing patience with it.

"We know what happened. Bonnie got them in, but she didn't have enough power to majick the four of them out once they'd gotten Elena. They were caught as they tried to escape, and Klaus killed her," Ric stated.

"There's more to it than that. There's something Bonnie hasn't told me about that night. I know it. I know when she's keeping things from me."

Damon frowned. So ghost witch hadn't told Junior that Elena had refused to leave without Stefan, and it was _**Stefan**_ who had turned them over to Klaus. He was trying to figure out the dead witch's angle in withholding that info when Junior spoke again in a conspiratorial whisper.

"But there's something else now. Something I haven't told you."

"Oh?" he heard Ric ask.

'_Yeah, Junior Gilbert, oh?'_

"Rose is here," the littlest Gilbert – for now – confessed, and Damon had to admit that he was surprised to hear Jeremy speak that name. He thought Rose would've been long gone to the great hereafter.

"Rose?" Ric said for him. "As in vampire-bit-by-a-werewolf-and-Damon-killed-her Rose?"

Damon bit his lip and gripped the railing at the top of the stairs. He remembered Rose vividly: her last moments, the dream he gave her, her sharp intake of breath as he staked her, the weight of her desiccating body in his arms… He remembered Elena's attempts to comfort him, and how he had rebuffed her. And he remembered killing Jessica on the road in his drunken grief.

He swallowed hard, but shook it off because Junior was talking.

"Yeah. She appeared to me in the kitchen this morning when we were bringing our breakfast."

"Why is she here?" he heard Ric ask, and he listened all the more intently because he wanted to hear the boy's answer. Why would Rose of all people stick around after he'd mercy killed her to keep her from suffering any more from the werewolf bite?

"She says she's here for Damon, that no one's on his side, and she is. She and her friend ran from Klaus for five hundred years. She knows what it was like to be hunted by him. She says Damon did the right thing. She also says Damon loves Elena, and he'll do right by her. She knows we'd like to stop it, to protect Elena from him, but right now, he's her best bet. She says he'll surprise her and challenge her, make her question her life. Yeah, Elena made him a better person, and she still does, but he changes her, too. He'll either be the best thing for her or the worst, but we can't interfere, and we have to let whatever went on between us in the past go."

Damon closed his eyes and smiled softly to himself. Rose had been a good friend, and a good lover. He hadn't loved her like he loved Elena, but she'd known that and had accepted it. If things hadn't played out the way they had, he could've been content with her in his bed for a few decades.

"She can't be serious," Ric gasped.

"She is."

"Great. What's Bonnie say about the whole thing?"

"Bonnie says we need Damon."

"For how long?" the former history teacher asked, an eager edge to his voice.

"Oh come off it, Ric. You know you're only holding a grudge against him because you found out he got you the job at Berkeley."

And that was Damon's cue. He zipped down the steps to the landing, but took the rest at human speed, adding an extra swagger to his hips as he strolled into the parlor.

"I _**didn't**_ get him the job at Berkeley," he corrected, heading for the decanter. "I put in a good word for him and recommended him for a professorship. Which, by the way, he will never make tenure on if he doesn't stop taking _**sabbaticals**_." He added a disapproving glare to his comment and poured himself a drink.

"Don't start. I know you bought my house, and that you're reinvesting the rents from the lake house for me," Junior Gilbert snapped.

Damon rolled his eyes. Only the Gilbert family would be pissed off that he was helping them maintain their financial independence.

"Witchy-Woo tell you that?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows at the empty space beside the kid.

Jeremy snorted. "D.E.S. Triumvirate Financial, LLC? Seriously? How transparent can you be, Damon?"

"And here I thought I was being so clever."

"Yeah, well, routing the money through a shell corporation in the Caymans made it harder to trace, but my roommate's a geek with a talent for sniffing out conspiracies."

"Fascinating. I'm impressed."

"You should be. You should see what he's turned up about GMO food companies."

"Monsanto is evil," he agreed immediately.

"Oh. So you know then."

"Anything that negatively affects your food supply, little mortal, affects mine, so yes, I know," he said, smirking that he'd popped Junior's balloon. "But enough about the conniving machinations of a corporation. Tell me about your own."

He sat down on the couch with his drink in his hand and looked expectantly at them. They looked back at him with uncomfortable expressions on their faces.

"Oh, c'mon. Don't be shy," he prodded. "You know you want to spill your guts, so get to it. You're both here for a reason, and it isn't for the tearful family reunion or my cooking."

They were silent a few moments longer, and he was starting to get pissed off when Junior sighed and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"Bonnie says she may have a way to get rid of Klaus," the boy said.

"Get rid of him _**after**_ we separate him from his bloodline you mean, or yours truly, my brother, dear, sweet Caroline, and your good buddy Tyler, all end up dead," he pointed out, an edge of irritation in his voice.

Junior shook his head. "Not necessary. The spell wouldn't kill him. It would only stop his heart and desiccate him."

"Like daggering him, but without the dagger?" he asked, intrigued.

"Something like that. It's a complicated spell. It requires linking a powerful witch to another person or persons. Those people would have to make a connection to Klaus's blood stream, either directly to his heart or into a vein. Then the witch would have to stop a human heart in the process to balance out that she's stopping a supernatural one," Jeremy explained, looking at his hands.

"So you need a witch with a set of questionable morals when it comes to the sanctity of human life, a bunch of volunteers willing to risk Klaus ripping their heads off, and a lamb to be led to slaughter," he summed up, staring at the boy with intent, predatory eyes.

"I've volunteered to be the one who gets his heart stopped," Jeremy confessed.

"_**What?**_" both he and Ric blurted in unison, and he was sure they were wearing twin shocked expressions on their faces.

"No! No, no, no, no. Did I mention, _**no!**_" he declared, too stunned to hide his surprise.

"Elena's my sister. I want to do this. For six years I haven't been able to do anything while Klaus held her prisoner and used her for her blood and her body. Now it's my turn to help her."

"You helped your sister four years ago in San Diego when you fought to take down that pack of werewolves and vampires who were planning to kill her. This? Even if I were to let you do it, which I won't, she'd never forgive you."

"Bonnie wants to use Lucy. She's a Bennett witch, and Bonnie's pretty sure Lucy can channel her. Besides, guys, I have my ring. If Lucy can't revive me with C.P.R., I'll come back anyway."

Ric shook his head. "We don't know how many times that ring'll work, Jer. It's taking longer and longer for me to wake up after I'm killed. There may come a time when the magic's all used up."

Damon gestured to his former friend. "What he said. Took him hours to wake after I broke his neck early this morning. We don't know how many Super Mario lives are packed into that thing."

"You guys aren't hearing me. I'm doing this. The only difference is if you're with me when I do it. I don't need your approval or your permission," Junior stated, and he had the same stubborn expression on his face that Damon had seen on Elena when she was being her most belligerent. He knew then that there was no use in arguing with the boy.

"Jeremy…" Ric began, but Damon cut him off.

"Okay. Fair enough. But _**you're**_ going to be the one to tell her what happened when it's all over, and deal with her hysterics, and if you send her into false labor, I _**will**_ kill you – twice!" he threatened.

Junior met his eyes, and they looked at each other, regarding each other man-to-man. The kid wasn't a punk teenager anymore, stoking up in the Lockwood's den with emo music playing over the stereo; maybe it was time to let him play Varsity.

"Deal," Jeremy agreed. "Bonnie was hoping both of you would be on Team Desiccation."

"If it'll get rid of Klaus, but not hurt me, or my brother, I'm all for it," he answered.

"Do you think Stefan would do it, too?" Junior asked. "I mean, theoretically, it's going to take a bunch of people to bring him down and hold him while the blood connection is made."

"Did Sabrina tell you Stefan was up to it?" he questioned leadingly, using his old nickname for the deceased witch.

"No. I was just hoping…"

"Don't. Just assume that my brother is doing his own thing right now," he stated, hoping his firm tone clued the kid in that he shouldn't ask for details.

"Our sources inside Klaus's inner circle tell us that Klaus's hold on Stefan is weakening. You have anything to do with that?" Ric informed.

"First of all, if you think Klaus isn't aware that his number one barking vampire isn't a squealer, you're delusional. Second of all, if I did have something to do with it, I wouldn't tell you," he replied, smirking.

"Regardless, we have some time. Bonnie hasn't located Lucy yet, and we aren't anywhere near ready to pull off this plan," Jeremy said. "I was hoping to have more than just the two of you to bring Klaus down. If we can't rely on Stefan, do you think we should call Matt?"

"No! You leave the quarterback out of this! I went to a lot of trouble to get his ass out of this town, and I want to keep it that way!" he snapped.

"So you _**did**_ get him that scholarship to Clemson! _**I knew it!**_ Did you conjure up his long lost cousin Maude, too, who left him just enough money to pay for the rest of his education and his first condo?" Junior crowed.

He snarled. He hated getting caught being the good guy. Even Ric was looking at him with some of the old respect and admiration that he used to have for Damon.

"None of your business!" he growled, getting defensive.

"I don't get you, man. You buy my old house. You make investments for me and my sister. You get Ric a job at a prestigious university. You get Matt a scholarship to Clemson. We hate you. We've tried to kill you, but you still help us. Why?"

"Because we're his family, and he loves us. Even when we hate him," Elena's voice interrupted, and he whirled his head around to see her shuffling her way into the parlor. He scowled because he hadn't heard or smelled her, and that was not a good thing.

He was up and by her side in a vamp second, his hand on her arm, steadying her because it looked like she was having trouble controlling her body. A million questions were on his lips, but he asked none of them because the Elena he needed to speak to was no doubt locked up in the dungeon of her mind.

"Short nap, Baby?" he asked, as he took a moment to light the sprigs of coltsfoot and rosemary he always kept in a fireproof dish on the accent table.

She shrugged and leaned on him. "I had to pee."

"Want me to come up and tuck you back in?" he asked with a sexy leer.

She gave him a tired smile and shook her head. "No. You know I don't sleep well when you're not there. I miss you, Damon."

"Hmmmm," he hummed, drawing her close and guiding her to their preferred sofa.

He shot Ric a look he hoped the other man would correctly interpret because Stepford Elena was out in force, and, until he could get her back into her cage, anything they said could be held against them. As it was, he wondered how much of their plan she had overheard.

"Were you done talking?" she questioned.

"Yup," he answered, popping the "p" with a purse of his lips and casting another glance at Ric.

The history teacher made a gesture that the two of them used to tell each other that a message was received without resorting to the usual nods, and Damon knew he'd been understood. Even after six years apart, they still could read each other well enough to communicate without the need for words, and it made him miss his friend all the more.

"Good," she said, snuggling close as they sat down together, and she nestled herself into his arms. He draped the blanket around her shoulders again, and he tucked it over her feet to make sure her toes stayed warm because she'd forgotten her slippers.

Ric and Jeremy were seated opposite them on the other couch. Ric looked relaxed, but Damon knew better. He was watching Damon carefully. If Damon so much as twitched, Ric would be on his feet, reaching for weapons they both knew were hidden nearby, and following Damon's lead on how to deal with the threat. Knowing his former friend was with him, and ready to provide support, made a warmth blossom in his chest, and he almost smiled. Instead he saluted Ric with his drink and drew Elena closer with the arm he had around her shoulders.

"Warm enough, Baby? You forgot your slippers," he said to her.

She glanced at her blanketed feet, and he saw her toes wiggle under the soft chenille.

"I didn't even think of it," she admitted.

"Bare feet are no good with hardwood floors, no matter how well polished," he said, sliding his arm away and pulling back. "I'll go get them, and I'll brew you a cup of tea while I'm up. Do you want a snack, too? Are you hungry?"

He saw her think for a moment, then she smiled at him. "Do we have any leftovers from last night? The chicken you made with the basil and lemon?"

He nodded as he stood up. "I'll make you a sandwich with the rosemary thyme bread I baked."

Her smile spread to a grin. "That would be perfect."

He bent down to give her a quick kiss. Stepford Elena, especially in her hormonal state, needed a lot of reassurance. "Well, you've got the right guy for the job. You stay here and chat with baby bro about all the fun you're going to have after you convince me to bring you to New York to visit him at school, and all the shows you want to see, and all the places you want to shop, and all the baby shit you want to buy at FAO Schwartz…"

"Hey, _**you're **_the one buying all the baby shit," she countered.

"I didn't buy most of it. I up-cycled it. Chicks dig guys who care about the environment," he quipped.

He gave her his smoldering look, and she giggled. "My vampire is green."

"No one can say I'm not a sensitive guy who cares about the planet. And like I said, if it screws with your blood, it affects my food supply. Hence why you won't find me anywhere near China these days; I'd starve in Beijing."

With that, he kissed her on the forehead and left her in the living room with Ric and her brother. He found the slippers on the floor by her side of the bed, and he brought them down, placing them on the rug under the cocktail table before he disappeared into the kitchen to brew Elena's tea and make her a sandwich. He did keep an ear out, but Ric had received his warning loud and clear, and Witchy Woo must've warned Junior, because the conversation never strayed from such titillating subjects as the weather in northern California, or Little Gilbert's love life. Ric loved the Bay Area, but missed the greenery of the east coast. Junior had dated some, but had no one serious in his life. Possibly because having a long term relationship with someone is problematic when your sister's a mystical being, you can see ghosts, and your former high school History teacher is training you in how to kill vampires. That could lead to an unwilling internment in a mental ward until someone could spring you out.

He brought the sandwich and tea to her about fifteen minutes later, and he presented them to her with all the flourish of a waiter at a fancy Italian restaurant. She smiled at his antics and accepted the food, but he frowned when he looked in her eyes and did not see any trace of his Elena coming to the surface. The coltsfoot and rosemary should have started to work by now, and he was starting to get that little tickle up his spine that warned him when everything was about to go to complete shit. He gave a sidelong glance to Ric, catching his eye and raising an eyebrow. Ric's lips thinned, and he took the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and traced his left wrist with them – their signal for "no." Damon's heart sank because that meant Ric wasn't seeing a change in Elena's behavior either. He only hoped the tea did the trick. He'd added three drops of absinthe again, but now he was wondering if he should've used five.

By all accounts, Elena should have been exhausted enough to sleep for hours, but her alter ego was up in less than one. He was trying to figure out why, and he didn't like any of the answers he was deducing. The only thing that had changed was the addition of Junior and Ric. Their presence altered the situation, and Stepford Elena's behavior changed. That meant that Klaus's compulsion was _**adaptive**_, and that did not bode well. Unfortunately, there was no telling what all Klaus's compulsion entailed, or how deep it went, without causing serious psychological harm to Elena in the process.

"So, what was decided?" he asked lightly, smiling. "When are we headed to the Big Apple to spend lots of money?"

"Classes for the fall semester start the Tuesday after Labor Day," Junior said. "I'll be a senior."

"So it's your last year of college before you have to grow up and get a real job," he teased, flopping down next to Elena on the sofa. "We should plan to do something for your last Spring Break. Maybe send you to Cancun or Jamaica for a big beach blowout with lots of topless co-eds."

"Damon!" Elena scolded, but it wasn't his Elena, and his heart sank even further. If pushing buttons like he was doing wasn't bringing her out, they were in deep trouble.

"What? He's an unattached bachelor, and not a bad looking one at that. Now is the time for him to have some fun before he settles down. A man shouldn't limit himself before he's done jell-o shots out of a woman's bra."

Elena's expression darkened, but he just kept looking innocently at her, as if he had no idea that he was being offensive or crass.

"My roommate and I went to Daytona this year," Jeremy admitted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Damon wondered if either Rose or Witchy Woo was filling him in.

"Ohhh, nasty. Did you get lucky?"

"Damon! Stop talking about my brother like that!" his Elena fumed, making him grin even as she glared daggers at him.

"Hi, Baby, there you are," he greeted.

She scowled, then blinked as she realized what he'd done. "You were pissing me off on purpose."

"That depends. Did it work?"

She cocked her head and looked thoughtful. "I'm in control, so yes, I think it worked."

"Took a while there, babe," he commented, trying not to sound as worried as he actually was.

"I was tired. It was harder to push her back."

He waggled his eyebrows at her, leering, and she hit him with a throw pillow.

"Ah ah ah. That could be considered domestic abuse," he warned.

"I could probably kill you and get away with it. Liz knows what it's like to live with you," she shot back without missing a beat as she finished off the rest of her sandwich and took a gulp of the tea.

Junior Gilbert laughed, and even Ric cracked a strained smile.

"But then I wouldn't have you around to cook for me, and I'd probably starve," she added with a shrug.

"Can't have that now. You have to think of the baby," Damon commented, watching as her hand went immediately to her abdomen.

"I know," she agreed, then turned to her brother. "I would like to visit you at school, though, Jer."

"You should come before it gets too cold. New York in winter can suck," Jeremy replied.

Elena nodded. "Maybe right after classes start then, before it's too cold, and I'm too heavy. What shows are good to see these days?"

"There's a couple of ones off Broadway that are really good. I'll look into getting tickets the third week of September," Junior answered.

Elena turned her doe eyes to Damon. "Do you think we could go for a long weekend?"

"Baby, we can go for however long you want," he said earnestly. "I told you, I'll take you wherever you want to go, whenever you want to go there. If you want to visit Baby Bro in the Big Apple, I'll call and make us reservations at the Waldorf Astoria right now."

She gave him a tender smile and rested a hand on his knee. "We'll talk about it later tonight, and I'll look up hotels on TripAdvisor. I'm not sure I want to stay at a place like the Waldorf. I think a smaller boutique hotel might be better."

He shrugged. As long as the place had rooms with King-sized beds and soundproofing, he didn't much care where they stayed. "Whatever. My Platinum card is yours for the swiping."

"What if I want to use my own money for once?" she countered.

"And have people believe that I'm a kept man? I don't think so."

Jeremy had been taking a drink at that moment, and he almost spit alcohol all over the couch.

"Hey, hey, careful there, Junior. If you can't hold your liquor, don't pour yourself a drink," he chided.

"Dick," Jeremy responded, wiping his mouth.

"Yep."

The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way as the morning. Damon left Elena with their guests as much as possible, and all subjects remotely concerning Klaus were avoided. Jeremy and Ric stopped trying to get Elena to run off with them, and Elena seemed to be enjoying a day of what passed for as close to normal as they ever got considering their situation. He kept her supplied with tea and re-lit the coltsfoot a number of times, but he could tell that maintaining control was a harder task for her, and he didn't like that. It was something he was going to have to figure out how to handle. If the compulsion was adaptive, that meant they weren't playing a simple game of chess anymore, and Klaus had just upped the ante.

He made a light lunch around one since they'd had a late breakfast, and plans were made to go to the Grille for dinner. Junior caught him alone in the kitchen while he was tidying up after the meal, and he could tell the kid wasn't there to help dry the dishes.

"Something on your mind?" he asked nonchalantly as he made a show of ripping off the top of a blood bag with his teeth and pouring half of it into a mug to be nuked.

"There's something I gotta tell you," the boy answered.

He nodded as he put the mug in the microwave and heated it to temperature. Junior waited until he'd taken the mug out and had a sip.

"So? Spill," he prompted, leaning his hip causally against the counter.

"Rose is here."

He pretended to be surprised, although in a way he was because he hadn't expected the kid to admit the dead vampire's presence quite so soon.

"_**Really?**_ Now, now, Rose, I know you're obsessed with me, but don't you think stalking me from beyond the grave is a bit much?" he sing-songed, casting his eyes around the room for a ghost he couldn't see.

Jeremy chuckled and looked briefly to his right. "She says you're still dripping with sex, but that's not why she's here."

"Good to know, coz I'm taken, but even if I was the cheating type… _**I'm**_ not stupid enough to cheat on your sister," he answered, taking another sip from the mug.

"I always knew you were smarter than you looked."

"Same goes for you," he admitted. "So, if she's not here to ogle me in the shower and pine away that she can't touch me, why _**is**_ she here?"

"She wants you to know that she is rooting for you and Elena."

"Well, that's nice. A dead vamp is on my side. Duly noted," he said, drinking the rest of the blood in the mug and refilling it with the rest of the bag.

"She also says to not underestimate Klaus. He always has plans within plans within plans."

"Yes, I am familiar with Klaus's Russian dolls of plans. The night of the sacrifice when he punted to your Aunt Jenna as the vampire after I'd freed Blondie proved that."

He turned his back long enough to nuke the second serving.

"She says you have to account for every possibility, even the ones you can't bear to bring yourself to think about."

"You mean like Stepford Elena betraying me to Klaus and getting me killed?" he said with a shrug as he took the mug out of the microwave and faced the kid again. "Yeah, I've thought about it. I consider it a likely scenario, especially after what we learned today."

"That the tea took longer to take effect," Junior observed.

"And the fact that she only slept for an hour. She should've been out for two at least," he responded, taking a drink of the blood in his mug.

"Bonnie says alter egos can take control any time one persona is unconscious. Because the mind rules the body, it won't register things like exhaustion, hunger and sleep depravation."

"Yeah, I got that."

"So what are we going to do?"

"What? Witchy Woo doesn't have an answer to that already? Being dead's made her lose her touch," he snarked, knocking the mug back to finish off the blood before rinsing it out in the sink and tossing the empty blood bag in the garbage. He made a mental note that it was almost time to burn the trash. No good leaving evidence around for anyone to find.

"Yes, I know," Junior said suddenly, and Damon turned his head to look at him.

"Huh? Are you actually agreeing with me?"

"No, Rose was just reminding me that you always get snarky when you're upset. Well… _snarkier_. As for the other, Bonnie's been concentrating on finding Lucy. She hasn't been spending too much time watching you."

"Good, coz thinking about Sabrina watching me is just creepy."

Jeremy rolled his eyes, but Damon just smirked.

"Damon…" the younger Gilbert said seriously.

He sighed and faced the boy.

"I don't know," he stated, cutting the kid off. "I don't know what we're going to do. I learned from before that I can't out think Klaus. I can only prepare for the worst and go from there. Does he have some sinister, horribly evil plan? Probably. Is Elena's compulsion part of it? Most definitely. Do I want a better idea of what I'm up against? Hell yes, but the herbs I would have to use to break through would hurt the baby."

"Belladonna," Jeremy confirmed, and he probably got that from Ghost Witch.

"Exactly, and I'm not willing to risk using it. So what do I do? Nothing. Not until the baby is born. I think I impressed upon Klaus the need for Elena to breastfeed, so I'm hoping the rat bastard leaves us alone for a while after the baby comes. Once the baby is no longer in danger, I can break out the big guns. Until then… I play Johnny Bench to a pregnant doppelganger with a multiple-personality disorder."

It was the most honest he'd been with anyone since this whole mess had started, and he wasn't too keen on baring his soul to a kid who had every reason to hate him, but he needed help. Rose was right. Klaus had plans within plans, and if he wanted to get all of them through this alive, then he needed an edge, and Ghost Whisperer Gilbert might just be exactly what the witchdoctor called for. Unless Klaus knew about Jeremy's little after-death side effect…

"Who else knows you can see ghosts?" he asked.

"Ric and now you…" The kid's eyes opened wide. "and Elena…"

Yes, Elena in both her incarnations knew about his secret (or not so secret) weapon. His heart sank even further. _'Shit.'_

"Everything okay in here?" Ric asked as he came into the kitchen.

There was a look on the history teacher's face that made all the alarms go off in Damon's head.

"Just cleaning up. Everything okay out there?" he replied casually.

"Yeah, everything's good," Ric said, but his hand made the gesture for "caution, danger."

Damon narrowed his eyes and fought down the wave of dread as Elena came into the kitchen on Ric's heels. One look at her told him that Stepford Elena had resurfaced, and he hid his disappointment behind a warm smile.

She moved past Ric and Jeremy to reach his side as if being a few feet away from him was unacceptable. She even squeezed her way between him and Junior Gilbert, almost pushing the kid out of the way. She put an arm around his waist, and he wrapped one of his around her shoulders.

"Hey Baby, how are you doing?"

She looked up and smiled brightly. "Better now. You and Jer were in here a long time. I thought I was going to have to send Seal Team Six in to get you."

He chuckled. "Not necessary. I was just schooling Junior in the proper way to load a dishwasher. Kid's useless in the kitchen."

"Hey!" Junior complained.

"You were talking about me, weren't you?" she accused.

"You got us. We were planning your baby shower."

She gasped and looked crushed. "Baby shower? I'm not going to have a baby shower. Who'd come? Everyone I knew is either dead or moved away. Mom's gone. Klaus killed Aunt Jenna. Bonnie's here, but she's a ghost. Caroline is stuck with Rebekah. Who's left?"

"Ahh…" _'Okay so maybe the baby shower thing was the wrong thing to say.'_

He cast a panicked glance at Ric, looking for backup, but the history teacher just glared disapprovingly at him. Elena sniffled, and he knew he was in for it.

"I mean… all the women in my life are gone. I'm in this alone…"

"Hey, now, you have me and Junior Gilbert and Ric, and Liz, she's a woman. And Dr. Fell…"

"Sheriff Forbes? She's old enough to be my mom! And Dr. Fell only helps me because you're giving her your blood for her to use."

Oh, what he wouldn't do for a pack of hybrids to come barging in there to save him from the hormonal crying jag he knew was coming. So far, she didn't have them often, but when she did, they were epic. He prayed they weren't a taste of what was to come as she got further into her pregnancy. He wracked his brain on how to derail the train wreck he saw barreling at him, and he cast a pleading look at Ric and Junior, but they appeared to be planning a hasty retreat. They were also communicating with hand gestures, and he felt a rush of betrayal and irrational jealousy. Secret hand language was for him and Ric alone.

"Oh, you know women. They're all catty and back-stabby. Guys are much more fun. You can have an all guy baby shower with yours truly as the host," he teased, trying to distract her.

She gazed at him with watery eyes that flashed a bit of the Petrova fire. "You're not serious?" she scoffed.

"Aww, c'mon, you know I make a mean potato salad," he answered with a winning grin.

It didn't work. She burst into tears and punched him in the abdomen before running, sobbing, out of the kitchen with an "I hate you!" tearing from her lips as he doubled over from the blow.

"Damn, for such a little thing, she packs a hell of a punch," he complained, rubbing the sore spot. "Well, that went well."

Ric shrugged. "At least she didn't say it was all your fault."

"Don't worry. She'll get to it."

"Aren't you going to go after her?" Junior asked with an edge of accusation.

"I will. I'm giving her time to make it upstairs to the bedroom. I hope she doesn't try to lock me out. That door's original. I'd hate to have to kick it down," he answered.

"You could go in through the balcony," Ric suggested.

"True, but I'd worry about breaking the glass if she locked the French doors."

Ric chuckled. "You are so house proud."

"Hey, the house I grew up in has turned to rubble. I'd like this one to last, thank you very much."

"What ever happened to the Salvatore Plantation, anyway? The story is that it burned down," Junior questioned.

"It did. I set it on fire to hide the bodies of the people my brother had killed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a pregnant woman to placate."

"Got any Haagen-Dazs?" Ric asked.

He paused to mentally inventory the freezer. "No, but I have something better. I have Klondike Bars."

"That'll work," Jeremy confirmed.

He fished an ice cream bar out of the freezer. "Wish me luck."

"If we hear any screaming and things breaking, we'll call Sheriff Forbes," he heard Jeremy call after him as he left the kitchen.

'_Kid thinks he is so funny. He has no idea what this is like for me,'_ he thought angrily as he climbed the stairs.

He tracked the sound of her crying all the way to his bedroom, and he stopped outside the closed door to gingerly test to see if she had locked it. She hadn't, but he still felt the need to announce his presence by knocking.

"Elena? It's me, Baby? Can I come in?" He added silently, _'I can't believe_ _I'm begging to go into my own fucking bedroom…'_

"Go away! I hate you!" he heard her yell back between sobs.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'll never have a baby shower!" she wailed.

'_Okay, that's it.'_

He opened the door and strode in, Klondike Bar held out in front of him. She was on the bed, hugging her pillow and looking miserable. His heart ached.

"Peace offering?" he said hopefully with a small, sideways grin.

She sniffed loudly. "What is it?"

"Klondike Bar. Would you forgive me for it?" he asked, coming to sit beside her on the bed.

The pillow hit him in the face, but he felt her grab the ice cream bar from his hand. She was unwrapping it as he tossed the pillow back against the headboard.

"I guess not," he commented.

"Why should I forgive you? You're mean," she stated, chomping down on the Klondike Bar.

"All the shit I've done in the past that you've managed to forgive me for, and you choose to hold a grudge over a half-assed comment I meant as a _**joke**_?" he complained.

"It's not a joke," she insisted, fresh tears falling and her face crumbling again. "This is supposed to be the happiest time of my life, Damon. I'm going to have a baby. I should be married, with a supportive husband, and my mom and Aunt Jenna and all my girlfriends should be gathering around me and telling me how happy they are for me. But I don't have any of that."

He tried not to let her words sting, but they did anyway. His pain must've shown because she immediately looked contrite.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean… you've been perfect, and I love you so much…"

"But it's not the life you wanted," he admitted, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I was never going to have the life I wanted. Being a doppelganger insured that," she said softly, eating more of the ice cream.

"But you wanted the husband and the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids."

She nodded guiltily. "Yeah, but I'm not going to get the 2.5 kids either. If Bonnie's right, this one is it, so I have one chance for a baby shower. One. And I'm not going to get it."

He shrugged. "Well, I don't know about that. With Ghost Whisperer Gilbert, maybe he can… y'know…"

"Don't you even suggest that Jeremy try to contact Mom and Jenna so they can come to a baby shower."

"Okay, bad idea. Noted."

She rolled her eyes and finished off the ice cream. "You're hopeless."

"You're just figuring that out?" he questioned fondly, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"No," she answered with a small smile. "I've known it for a while."

He grinned back. "Feeling better?"

"Not really, and I'm sure my eyes are all bloodshot, and my face is all red and blotchy."

"You're beautiful."

He reached over and gathered her close, hugging her tight as she wrapped her arms around him.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too. I'm so sorry I punched you in the stomach and said I hated you."

"It's okay. I've had a lot worse things happen to me."

"I know. You were always getting beat up trying to protect me."

"I'm tough. I can take it."

"Big badass vampire… who cares about the environment and can't leave a dirty dish in the sink," she razzed, snickering.

"Hey, when your nose is as sensitive as mine, you like things fresh and clean."

"I guess that makes sense."

He shifted them so he could lie down beside her with her body tucked up against his, and she snuggled up, one hand on his chest.

"It's weird having Jeremy and Ric here, isn't it?" she commented.

"Yeah, but it's good to see them. You're right. Now is the time for family to gather and support you," he replied, letting one hand stroke her hair because he knew she liked it.

"And we need all the help we can get."

"Exactly."

"You smell good," she said suddenly.

"Good to know."

"Mmm hmmm."

He tried to stay very still with only his hand gently petting her head because he could tell that she was falling asleep, and he wanted Stepford Elena to sleep so his Elena would have an easier time surfacing. As soon as he felt her go slack, he slipped carefully out of bed to light the coltsfoot and simmer the rosemary oil over a tea candle. He added frankincense to the rosemary in hopes that its astral properties would help clear Elena's mind and allow her to take control. When the room started smelling of the herbs, he got back into bed and stretched himself out alongside Elena to watch her sleep. He was waiting for some sign of her waking, when she let out a little moan and slowly opened her eyes.

"Hey Baby," he greeted in a soft voice.

"David," she breathed, a frightened look on her face.

"I'm here."

She reached out to him and he took her into his arms, soothing her as she clutched his shirt in her hands.

"She just shoved me back. I had no warning…" she told him in a worried whisper.

"Shhh. It's okay. I think Ric and Junior being here triggered another part of the compulsion."

"I don't understand what's happening to me. How can she seize control so easily when we have the tea and herbs?"

"Because the mind rules the body, and Klaus's compulsion is a powerful thing. It's a geis- a curse. You can't fight it. If you do, it'll only get stronger," he explained, stroking her hair.

"What are we going to do?"

"We're working on it."

"David, I'm scared."

The words were a punch to the balls, and he drew her closer, trying to protect her with his body even though their enemy wasn't something he could physically protect her from. Now that he had her, now that she loved him, Elena's pain was Damon's pain. Her ache, his ache. Her fears, his fears. But he could not allow her fear to cloud his judgment, nor his hidden terror that all his efforts would be in vain. He needed to keep a clear head so that he could see the game Klaus was playing. He knew there would be a moment, probably at the last second, when Klaus was certain he would win, and he would let his guard down. It would be in that moment where Damon could best him. He had to be ready because he would only get one chance.

It was likely he would die in the effort, but if it meant she and the baby would live, he was more than willing to lay down his life for her. Junior and Ric would make sure she was safe, and he'd already set up all the accounts needed to insure her and the child's financial security. If sacrificing himself assured her survival, he would do it without hesitation or regret. The only thing he needed to do was make sure that she didn't figure out his plan – whatever it would be – before the big reveal.

"I know, Baby. I'm scared, too," he confessed, caressing her back.

"You are?"

"Of course I am. Only a fool wouldn't be. But it's going to okay, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because no matter what crazy shit this world seems to throw at us, we find a way. We always find a way."

She sniffled, and he felt her nod her head against his chest.

"Yeah. We do."

"Yep, so don't worry. I got this," he whispered, his voice filled with more confidence than he actually felt.

"Okay."

"Okay?" he repeated, smirking at her and giving her an eyebrow wiggle. She gave him a small smile.

"Okay," she confirmed.

He sighed and gently rubbed circles on her back until he felt her relax and snuggle closer.

"I love you, David," she said softly.

"I love you, too."

He placed the palm of her hand over his heart and held it there with his own, his fingers curled around hers as they lay quietly. Somewhere in the house, Ric and Jeremy were plotting and planning, and no doubt Klaus was plotting and planning wherever he was in the world, but in this moment there was peace and love, and he would take them and cherish them in the dark times ahead.


	14. Chapter 14

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, and Kate C. :)

Sorry for the long delay. I promise Ch 15 will be out much sooner.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

Weeks passed. The days grew shorter, the nights longer, and Mystic Falls cycled from summer into autumn. The temperatures dropped, and soon there would be talk of holiday plans and gifts. But first there was a baby to be born, and things seemed on track for that as Elena grew heavier and rounder each day.

Junior Gilbert returned to New York for the fall semester at NYU, but Ric had decided to stick around. He took an extended leave of absence from his position at Berkeley, presumably to do some research for a book on the American Civil War, and he moved into the Gilbert house with Elena and Jeremy's blessing. His loft had long since been rented to someone else, and he refused Damon's offer to obtain the apartment for him again. Damon did, however, see to it that Berkeley's history department received a "grant" for Ric's sabbatical, thus ensuring his position would be held for him until he returned to California.

Ric hadn't been happy about that, and considered it a bribe, but Elena managed to guilt him into accepting it after she'd tearfully told him that she couldn't bear the thought of him losing his job over her. It worked, and now Ric was a frequent fixture on the boarding house sofas, drinking Damon's bourbon and trying his hand at cooking something other than leftover pizza and grilled cheese sandwiches. He and Damon were almost back to their pre-leaving-Elena-with-Klaus friendship, but not quite, and Damon doubted Ric would ever completely forgive him. That was okay, however, because Damon had yet to forgive himself, so he considered them even.

Damon made good on his promise to take Elena to New York for a long weekend, and they headed up to the Big Apple one sunny, Thursday morning. It was a seven hour drive, but they made it in good time, and the trip had been pleasant. He'd let Elena choose where they would stay, and she booked them into a small boutique hotel not far from Junior's dorm. He found the suite to be quite charming, but he'd never admit that he liked the little, perfumed soaps displayed in scallop shell shaped dishes on the bathroom sink vanity. He didn't have to. Elena, both incarnations of her, knew him well enough to recognize his appreciation of her choice. The bed was King-sized and made with a cream-colored duvet, a dark burgundy bed scarf, and lots of pillows.

They had dinner with Junior every night and attended two shows off Broadway – both lighthearted comedies that had Elena laughing and gripping his arm to keep herself from shaking too much. They'd both begged off going to the heavy hitters like Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables. Damon secretly believed that Victor Hugo wrote Les Mis because there wasn't any Prozac available when he was alive. That in and of itself wouldn't have been so bad if not for Andrew Lloyd Webber choosing to make the depressing novel into an equally depressing musical. The only explanation that made any sense was that Webber himself was in need of therapy, because how else could one justify glorifying a story where a main character is a single mother forced into prostitution who then dies of The Clap? A story where pretty much anyone with any redeemable qualities dies an agonizing, pointless death, including the kid; because let's face it, if you weren't a sobbing ball of mush by the time Gavroche died, you were a soulless schmuck. Brilliant score aside, Les Mis was the last musical an emotionally delicate, pregnant woman should be seeing, and Damon was very glad Elena agreed with him.

During the day, when Junior was either attending class or studying, he and Elena explored the city, and he took her to several of his old haunts from his time there in the 70's. Billy's bar was still tucked in its corner, and Will was still its undead proprietor. Damon rubbed clove and peppermint oil on Elena's pulse points to mask her scent so Will wouldn't try to kill her, but he still played the overprotective mate when the other vampire got too close.

He visited Billy's because of something he'd remembered about his time there. Back then, Will had a side business providing vampires with new identities. Damon was one of his "collectors," killing victims that matched the description of the people Will needed and stealing their I.D.s. For this service, Damon was allowed to feed indiscriminately among the club's clientele – usually tricked out punk fans high on The Ramones, Sex Pistols, and LSD. It had been a win-win situation for both of them.

In the modern age, Damon questioned Will's frequent requests for a 5'7" brunette. At the time, Will had said the vampire who'd needed the identities was a runner, but now Damon suspected that her true identity was Katherine. Damon had need of Katherine, who was – as usual – nowhere to be found when he actually _**wanted**_ to see her. She was the last person who knew the whereabouts of Lucy Bennett, and the witch was still proving to be very elusive. The time was getting closer to when her witchy powers would be needed, so he'd stepped up the search and hoped Will would have some new leads for him. Of course, Will pulling out the old album from 1977 with the photos of Damon in punk clothes and eyeliner was just a bonus.

Elena's squeals of delight, and peals of laughter, when she saw the pictures were enough to make him forget every sucky thing he'd done in the 70's, and listening to her try to wheedle copies of the images of him in a white Anarchy t-shirt and leather jacket or a gray, sleeveless muscle shirt out of Will was amusing to no end. Eventually, he suggested that Elena just take pictures of the photographs with her iPhone and save herself the hassle of having to deal with 40-year-old negatives. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, wondering aloud why she hadn't thought of that in the first place, and he had made a joke about pregnant women being emotional and not thinking straight. He'd barely missed getting kicked in the balls.

Once back in Mystic Falls, Damon hosted a small baby shower for Elena. The guest list included Carol Lockwood, Meredith Fell and Liz Forbes as well as a few of Elena's former high school classmates and fellow cheerleaders who hadn't left town for greener pastures after graduation. Damon made little tea sandwiches in the shape of infant's feet and cookies that were iced to look like baby rattles and bottles.

Elena received the standard gifts of diapers, bibs, and onesies, but Carol Lockwood sprung for a fancy baby stroller that converted into a bassinet, and Liz bought one of those diaper genie things for containing dirty diaper smells. Almost everything was pink because it was no secret that the baby was a girl, but Damon made sure that at least a couple of items were yellow or green, and he even bought one tiny dress in blue on the excuse that, since her mother looked so lovely in it, surely the daughter would as well.

Elena was overwhelmed and humbled by the effort put forth on her behalf, and she was very grateful for all the gifts. It wasn't until all the guests had left, however, that Damon brought out the final and most special gift.

Before they'd left New York, Ghost Whisperer Gilbert had pulled him aside to reveal – with tears in his eyes – that Miranda Gilbert had spoken to him. She had told him of a cedar-lined storage trunk that contained heirloom items Miranda had been saving for the birth of her first grandchild tucked into a corner of the Gilbert House attic. Damon and Ric retrieved the trunk from its dusty storage place, and Damon cleaned it up and restored the exterior to its former glossy sheen.

Inside the trunk was a beautiful receiving blanket made from the softest cotton Damon had ever felt, and a white christening dress trimmed in delicate lace. There was also a hand-made quilt and a variety of baby clothing ranging from newborn to eighteen months. Lastly, there was a journal Miranda had kept while she was pregnant with Jeremy with a letter to Elena tucked into its pages, detailing the truth of her adoption and expressing a mother's unconditional love.

"_**You will never be lesser to me in my eyes because I did not carry you,"**_ Miranda had written in tight, neat cursive penmanship. _**"You have been, and will always be, my daughter."**_

Elena had read the letter and cried. Damon had wrapped his arms around her, and rocked her as she'd clung to him, sobbing, until she could pull herself together. Then she had unpacked the trunk with reverence, examining each item as if it was a precious gift, which Damon guessed was a great deal nearer to the truth. The trunk itself she placed at the foot of the bed in "her" room, which was also the nursery, while she stored the blankets and clothing items in the dresser she had purchased for the baby's clothing and supplies. She left the quilt in the cedar chest to protect it from moths.

As October began its slow march towards Halloween, and the beginning of the holiday season, Damon finished the work on the nursery window seat, and all was almost ready for Baby Girl Gilbert's debut. His relationship with Elena was also settling into the familiar, abiding affection between two bonded individuals. People who didn't know them assumed they were married, even though neither wore a wedding ring, and despite the shadow of Klaus's compulsion hanging over them, they were closer than they had ever been.

Sex was tapering off as Elena grew heavier. Her ankles swelled, and her discomfort increased. Damon thought he would miss the frequent lovemaking, but he found that he didn't. He was so attuned to her that his libido was waning along with hers, and they would lie in bed for hours just cuddling while he rubbed her sore back or ankles. It wasn't unusual for Ric to come over in the afternoons to find them napping in their bedroom, though the man was smart enough to make sure Damon knew he was coming. As Elena got closer to her due date, he became more and more protective of her, to the point where he was snarling at strangers. Even the UPS man had stopped knocking.

One Wednesday in mid-October found them clothed, but lying in bed as they compared the latest high definition ultrasound with ones they had previously received. The detail and sharpness of the baby's face was amazing, and they could easily pick out traits that she was inheriting from her mother.

"She has your nose," Damon commented, holding the print-out next to the one they had gotten three weeks ago. "And look at that," he quipped. "She has ten fingers and ten toes."

"I'm so glad you can count," Elena replied drolly, trying to get comfortable but failing. Her back hurt – again.

"Back, Baby?"

She sighed. "Yeah. Sorry. I'm being a bitch."

"It's okay. You're allowed," he soothed, caressing the rounded mound of her abdomen.

At close to 33 weeks into her pregnancy, Elena's skin had stretched taut over her belly, and she'd gained close to thirty pounds. The doctor was cautioning against much more weight gain, but Damon was of the opinion that his mate could eat whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it, and they'd worry about losing the "baby fat" later. He knew Elena. He knew she'd work all thirty of the pounds off within short order. They'd already started an exercise program aimed towards strengthening her back and core muscles. It was part yoga, part graceful dance with a little bit of resistance strength training added, and they would also try to walk at least a mile a day, two if she was up to it.

Damon had purchased a special maternity belt that was designed to ease back pain and provide support for her growing baby bump, and she wore it whenever they were out and about, which was less and less these days. It helped some.

As his hand passed over the crown of her belly, and the little, marble shaped bump that was once her "innie" navel, he felt the impact of a tiny foot and heard Elena grunt.

"Hey, hey, no soccer playing indoors, missy," he chided to the unborn girl.

"Forget soccer, she's taking up kickboxing," Elena complained, rolling onto to her side. They'd learned that the baby was less likely to get up to serious kicking if Elena was curled on her side, which suited him fine because he wanted to rub her back.

"Not even born, and she's already trying to kick ass," he teased, using his fingers to work out a knot of tense muscles around her lumbar spine.

"Yeah, well she's kicking my bladder not my ass. Ooooph." Elena patted her belly in an attempt to get the baby's attention. "Stop that. I said Stop. That. It _**hurts**_."

Damon was already moving, getting off the bed and coming around to Elena's front. "Okay, okay, c'mon. Let's get up."

Elena scowled. "No. My back hurts."

"Yes, but you know she settles down when you move around. C'mon, let's go for a short walk. Up the driveway and back," he reminded, tugging on her hands.

"Don't wanna," she said with a definite whine in her voice.

"You want her to put a hole in your spleen a whole lot less. C'mon, where's my warrior princess who faced down vampires and werewolves and kicked their asses? You gonna let a three pound lightweight beat you?"

She glared at him, but started to get up. "I hate when you play dirty."

"No, you don't. You love it, especially when I take my tongue and…"

"Damon!"

He laughed and did his "eye thing" as she called it, which was enough to make her roll her eyes and struggle to her feet. She was off balance so he made sure he was in a position to support her should she have trouble.

"I hate you," she snapped, but there was no real intent behind the words.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Slave driver. Massive asshole. Heard it all before. Now chop chop, Miss Gilbert. Let's put one foot in front of the other and get out the door, shall we?"

She grumbled but obeyed, slipping her feet into the tennis shoes on the floor beside the bed. Damon used his vampire speed to quickly tie the laces so she wouldn't have to bend over, then he snagged the maternity belt from the bedside table and helped her fasten and adjust it so it was comfortable.

"How much longer do I have again?" she asked tiredly as they shuffled down the hall towards the stairs.

It was a rhetorical question. They both knew very well how much time they had left in her pregnancy, and even if by some quirk they didn't, the big calendar with December 8th circled in red ink that was taped to the inside of the closet door was a constant reminder.

"The good doctor says seven weeks."

"Almost another two months of this."

"Hey, at least you aren't this heavy in August."

She huffed and reached for the top rail of the staircase. "Small favors. I feel like a bloated whale already, and I'm only going to get bigger."

"Yes, but I love what it's doing to your bust line. Before, you had little, perky breasts, now you have…"

"Watermelons," she snapped.

"I was going to say now you have lush, rounded breasts that fit perfectly into my hands."

"Lush? You're telling me my boobs are lush?"

"Baby, if you'd been around in 1864, you would've filled out a ball gown so perfectly, every man, single or not, would have been currying your favor."

"It's good to know men haven't changed in 170 years. They're all still pigs."

He chuckled even as he positioned himself to catch her should she lose her balance on the steps. "Well, if that's so, then women haven't changed either because they still want the same things out of men: money and good looks."

"Well, the money you've got, not so sure about the good looks part," a male voice said from somewhere downstairs.

Snarling at the threat, Damon vamped out and sped down the steps, stopping in front of the other man. It was Ric, and thank God he knew not to run or show fear, but then he was used to Damon's displays of speed and power.

"You need to knock, Bro," Damon warned, shaking off his fang face.

Ric held up a bag from the local home improvement store. "You knew I was coming over. I brought the stuff you asked for."

Damon took the bag from Ric and examined the contents to make sure everything he needed was there. With the baby only weeks away from her debut, he was now turning his attention to "baby proofing" a house that had been built when such notions hadn't even been a consideration. He'd charged Ric with the task of buying the things needed to secure the kitchen cabinets and electrical outlets from tiny, questing fingers.

"Thanks," he said, but Ric wasn't paying any attention to him. He was watching as Elena finished coming down the stairs.

"Elena," he greeted with a proud smile on his lips.

"Hi, Ric," she replied.

"You look lovely today."

"Is that a polite way of telling me my boobs are bigger? Damon was saying that they're _lush_."

"Uhh…" Ric stammered, and Elena thankfully saved him by laughing.

"It's okay, Ric. Apparently, I'd also fill out a ball gown perfectly," she stated wryly as she came to stand next to Damon.

"Uh huh. I see," the other man commented.

Damon put a possessive arm around Elena's waist and drew her closer. Since both humans were used to his defensive posturing neither called him on it, but he could see the bemused glint in Alaric's eyes.

"I do have something for you, though," Ric said to her, putting a hand into the front pocket of his button-up, denim shirt.

Damon tensed and shifted just a little bit into a more protective position.

"Relax, it's only a business card," Ric assured him, pulling the piece of cardstock out and presenting it to Elena.

Damon snatched it up first, ignoring Elena's gasp, and examined the paper and typeset with his heightened senses. Any number of things could be done to make something seemingly innocuous into a deadly weapon, and he wasn't taking any chances. There were a lot of people who would be interested in seeing Elena and her baby dead, if only to permanently kill off the Petrova Doppelganger bloodline.

He knew his mate guarding was getting over the top, but he couldn't help it. He'd always been protective of his loved ones, but now with Elena pregnant that instinct was ratcheted up to almost insane levels. It had gotten to the point where he was considering calling Gloria for help in calming his inner beast down before Elena vervained him and locked him in the basement.

"She's a massage therapist, and she does house calls. I ran into her at the grocery store. I know you're having trouble with your back and such, so I thought that might help," Ric explained.

"Yeah, well, I'm a pretty good masseur myself," Damon said.

Elena snagged the card from his fingers and glared at him. "Yes, but it might be nice to look at someone other than you for a change."

"Elena, this woman is a stranger. We have no idea who she is," he complained.

"I'm not interviewing her for a nanny position. Besides, I dunno if I'm gonna call or not, but I want to have the _**choice**_."

He heard the warning in her voice, and he backed off. "Okay, but not before I have Liz check her out."

"Damon… Ric, help me out here," Elena asked.

"Ahhh, I agree with Damon. Yeah, it'd be nice for you to spend time with someone other than the Neanderthal, but at the same time, we know there are a lot of people who would like to see you dead. A thorough vetting is a good idea."

"Ugh, fine. Run her freakin' fingerprints. See if I care," she said, giving the business card back to Damon and tossing up her hands.

"Actually that isn't a bad idea," Damon answered, examining the card and wondering if any prints could be lifted from it.

"I already thought of that. She approached me in the store, and that made me a little wary, so I fished her empty coffee cup out of the trash after she'd tossed it. I have it in a plastic bag in my car," Ric confessed.

"You went digging in the trash for a used coffee cup?" Elena blurted.

"Hey, Damon and I might not agree on much, but there's one thing where we're in perfect accord, and that's your safety. I heard alarm bells go off in my head when she approached me, and I've learned to trust my instincts," Ric explained.

"I don't believe this. I feel like I've been dropped into an episode of CSI," she complained. "The two of you are too paranoid for your own good!"

Damon slung an arm over Ric's shoulder and smirked at her. "It's been my experience that every time I think I'm being too paranoid, I realize that I'm not being paranoid enough."

Elena crossed her arms and glared at both of them for a moment before rolling her eyes and huffing. "Fine. Be paranoid. Microchip me with a GPS locator so you can track me by satellite…"

"Y'know, that's not a bad idea," Ric mentioned.

"Thought about it, then I realized anyone who knew the frequency could track her, too," Damon replied.

"Ah, true."

"Seriously?" Elena said.

"Considering your habit of finding trouble no matter where you are, what do _**you**_ think?" Damon countered as Elena placed her hand on her rounded belly.

"I think this baby is pounding on my spleen, and if she doesn't stop soon, I won't be responsible for what I do," she growled through gritted teeth.

Damon was at her side in a vamp second, hand on her lumbar spine, urging her gently towards the door even as he was reaching for her coat that was hanging on the hall tree.

"So we go for our walk then and hope that helps lull the little darling to sleep," he told her, helping her get her arms into the coat sleeves.

"Baby restless again?" Ric asked.

"Yeah, and I've already cut out all caffeine, sugar, and spicy foods so I don't know what to do," Elena complained as they walked out the front door.

"Dr. Fell thinks she may be developing allergies in the womb, so the next step is to try cutting out dairy and gluten," Damon added.

"I keep telling you, I'm not allergic to anything, and I don't think I can be. I'm a doppelganger. Doppelgangers are supernatural. Have you ever heard of a supernatural being with hay fever?"

"Other than being deathly allergic to sunlight, wood to the heart, and vervain? Nope, I can't say I have," Damon answered.

"Me either. Too bad you haven't found Katherine yet. You could've asked her how her pregnancy went," Ric said.

"Oh yes, because Katherine Pierce would divulge any information about anything," Damon snapped back irritably.

"She might you know," Elena interrupted. "Maybe not Katherine, but Katerina? She was pregnant once, and her baby was taken away from her. I don't know how she felt about that, but I know I'd be destroyed if someone took my baby away from me. I haven't even seen her yet, and I already love her more than anything in the world."

All anger, frustration and irritation with each other disappeared immediately as Damon pressed his forehead to hers and a hand over her womb. She sighed and entwined her fingers with his, closing her eyes.

"I love _**you**_ more than anything in the world," he whispered, his lips against her temple.

She looked at him, her lashes moist from unshed tears, and gave him a tender smile. "I know. I love you, too."

"It's going to be okay. I promise."

She nodded and took a deep breath, stepping away from him so they could continue their walk up the driveway. It was crisp, but not cold, and the sun was shining. Ric came with them as they strolled at an easy pace, taking up the defensive position on her left side while Damon was on the right.

"So? You and the good doctor, huh?" Damon teased, smirking. He had seen Ric and Meredith Fell sitting next to each other at the Mystic Grill's bar a few days ago when he and Elena had stopped there for lunch, and they'd looked chummy.

"We're friends," Ric stated flatly.

"Didn't look like just friends to me," Damon pressed, waggling his eyebrows.

"Shut up before I shove a vervain syringe in your ass," the other man threatened.

"Oooh, testy. You must really like her."

"She's very nice, Ric. I think she'd be good for you," Elena added.

"We're just friends," he insisted. "I'm not looking for a relationship right now. Besides, I live in California remember?"

"That doesn't mean you can't have someone special in your life," she argued.

"Yes, it does. Have you forgotten that the women I get close to have a nasty habit of _**dying?**_"

Ric had all of four seconds' warning before a tearful Elena was pressing her face to his shoulder, and a furious Damon was glaring at him hard enough to kill.

"Oh Ric! I miss Jenna, too! I miss her so much!" she cried.

"Great going, reminding her of her dead aunt, dick," Damon growled.

Ric grimaced and awkwardly patted Elena on the back. "There, there. I'm sorry. It just… came out. You know me. There's no filter between my brain and my mouth."

"She and Jeremy were the only family I had left, and Klaus killed her. He _**killed**_ her!"

"I know. I know," Ric said, rubbing her back between her shoulders.

"I hate him! I hate him so much! He took everything away from me!"

Elena started to sob in earnest, and Ric cast Damon a pleading glance. Damon was looking rather pained himself, but he came forward and gently pried the weeping, pregnant woman away from him. She turned in Damon's embrace and clung to him as he wrapped his arms around her and whispered comforts into her ear.

"Shhh. Shhh. It's gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay," he promised, stroking her hair.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"You know I can't tell you that. The less you know, the safer you'll be."

"I know. It's just… I'm scared and worried and stressed-out."

"I know, Baby, but I need you to trust me. Can you trust me just a little bit longer?" he asked, putting his hands on her face and looking into her eyes.

"I'll try," she answered, sniffling.

"Thank you, Baby. I promise it'll all work out. Me and Ric have a plan. It's all gonna be okay."

He took her back into his arms and hugged her as tight as he dared until she was ready to pull away from him.

"Better?" he questioned, holding her face in his hands again.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"And our little kickboxer?"

She smiled a little and rubbed her belly. "She's settled down."

"Good."

Elena stepped back and turned to Ric as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Sorry about that," she apologized.

Ric waved a dismissive hand. "It's okay. I understand."

"I know you do, and I appreciate it so much," she said, reaching for both Ric and Damon's hands as she stared at them both with love and gratitude in her eyes. "You have no idea how much it means to me to know that both of you are with me right now."

Both men smiled at her, and Ric risked a quick kiss to the top of her head. "Believe me when I say, there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Ready to go back to the house?" Damon asked.

Elena nodded as she yawned. "Yeah. She's stopped kicking so maybe I can get a nap since she kept disturbing me."

They headed back down the long driveway and entered the house. Damon slipped her coat from her shoulders and hung it on the hall tree, giving her hair a stroke and kissing her cheek. She sighed and leaned into his touch.

"Gonna go upstairs and lie down?" he questioned.

"Yeah. I'm so tired. I just want to sleep."

"Is it okay if I stay down here with Ric?"

"Plotting and planning?" she teased.

"Not really. More like I could use his help fixing the garage door that's coming off its track."

"Ah. Okay. Super strength not enough?"

"Strength's fine, but I don't have four hands."

"No, although sometimes it feels like you have eight, Mr. Octopus."

He kissed her cheek and chuckled. "Only when I'm touching you. Can't get enough."

She turned her head so his next kiss caught her lips. "Mmmm. Don't leave me alone for too long. You know how I miss you."

He smiled and gave her a playful nip on her neck. "You're making me an offer I can't refuse."

She giggled and cast him a heated look before making her way up the stairs. Damon waited until she had made it safely up to the second floor, and was heading for their bedroom, before turning to Ric.

"Garage door really need fixing?" Ric asked knowingly.

Damon smirked. "Of course. I never lie to my girl. We can plot and renovate at the same time."

"Admit it. You only want me around for my expertise with power tools," Ric commented as he followed Damon through the house towards the garage.

The vampire scoffed. "Power tools? Please. You're forgetting that I was born before electricity was standard."

8888888888

When Elena made it to the top of the stairs, her head felt funny. She pushed it aside, blaming it on her weariness, and headed for the bedroom she shared with Damon. Something was pulling her towards the baby's room, however, and the pull got stronger the closer she got to the closed door. Almost unbidden, she passed the door to Damon's room and went to the next bedroom down. Her hand pushed against the old wood as it gave way, and she slipped silently into the nursery. The moment she passed the threshold, her mind went blank, and her body was no longer under her control.

The phone was hidden in a shoebox at the back of the closet, tucked under a pair of counterfeit Jimmy Choos that she couldn't wear anymore because her feet were so swollen. She picked it up, turned it on, and dialed the only number programmed into the phone's memory. The call was answered on the third ring, and an accented voice spoke smugly across the line.

"Hello, sweetheart, I've been waiting for your call. It's been quite a long time," Klaus said.

"I'm sorry. Things are crazy here. I haven't had any time to phone," she apologized.

"That's all right, darling. Tell me, how is everything in your little backwoods town?"

"Fine. Everything is fine," she assured him. She was nervous, but she didn't know why.

"And our little bun in the oven?"

"Dr. Fell says she's healthy. No problems."

"And you?"

"I'm doing fine. Getting heavier. Damon's getting oppressively overprotective, but that's nothing new."

"So our dark knight in tarnished armor is living up to our expectations?"

"Yes. More than that. Klaus, he's wonderful. He's perfect. I… I think I'm falling in love with him," she admitted breathlessly.

"Well, of course you are, dear. You've loved him for a long time. You loved him even when you were with his brother, remember?"

"I… I…"

"Come now, sweetheart, you know you can't lie to me."

"Yes, I love him. I've loved him for a long time," she replied, her voice flat from the compulsion.

"See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No."

"Is it okay, then? For me to love him?" she asked, a hopeful, childlike lilt in her voice.

"Of course it is, dear. That'll make it all the more satisfying when you kill him."

"What? No! No, I won't!" she refused, horrified, her heart starting to pound.

"Yes, you will, dear. You won't have a choice. I've compelled you to do it."

"No, Klaus. Please. Please don't make me do this! I love him," she begged, gasping as tears welled in her eyes.

"Love is for the weak, sweetheart. Now, I'm going to initiate the next phase of our little plan."

"_**No!"**_

"_**Yes**_, and you'll do it because I _**own**_ you," Klaus growled.

Her mind stilled, and her face went blank, as she was forced to comply.

"Yes. I belong to you, Nicklaus," she intoned.

"Good girl. Now, find out for sure if your precious Damon Salvatore murdered my brother, and then shove a stake through his black heart. Understood?"

"Yes, Nicklaus."

"And if you can't get the truth out of him, well then, you know what to do."

"Yes."

"Now you're going to hang up, and you're going to forget we had this conversation, just as you've forgotten all of our other little chats. You're going to put the phone back into its hiding place and forget about it until it's time for you to call me again. Understood?"

"Yes."

"That's my girl. Ta ta."

The line went dead, and she did as she was ordered, putting the phone back into its box and shoving the shoes on top of it. She closed the closet door and came back to herself.

Elena stood in her room, holding a sweater in her hands and wondering what she was doing there. She was trying to figure it out because she knew it was important, but it was just out of her reach. She was turning towards the closet, certain that her answers were in there, when Damon rapped on the door and popped his head into the room.

"There you are, Baby. I came up to change my shirt before Ric and I worked on the garage door, and you weren't in bed. What are you doing in here?"

There was a blank spot in her memory where she couldn't recall why she'd come into the nursery, but she shook it off as typical pregnant lady forgetfulness.

"I… I don't know. I know I came in here for a reason, but I don't remember why."

"Was it to get the sweater that's in your hands? Is the house too chilly? I could turn up the heat or start a fire in the hearth."

She looked down at the sweater in her hands and remembered coming in to get it, but the memory felt wrong somehow. She brushed it off.

"Oh, yeah. That was it. I'm sorry. I'm getting so forgetful."

He gave her a tender smile as he came in all the way, placing both hands on her shoulders and giving her a sweet kiss. "It's to be expected. All the blood is going from your head into making the baby. Your brain is shrinking," he teased.

She hit him with the sweater. "Ass!"

"It's a proven fact," he laughed, putting his arm around her shoulder. "C'mon, I'll put an extra blanket on the bed and tuck you in."

"I'd rather you join me," she admitted, allowing him to guide her out of the nursery. There was something about his voice and his touch that comforted her. She didn't want to be away from him.

"After I fix the garage door and get rid of the history teacher," he promised.

"I'll hold you to that, you know," she said as they entered their bedroom.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," he stated with a smile.

She watched as he went to a cedar chest, pulled out a thick blanket, and quickly spread it on the bed. She took the opportunity to remove the maternity belt and place it on the bedside table.

"Here you go, Baby," he told her, folding back the covers and patting the mattress.

She complied and sat on the bed. Damon took off her shoes and helped her lay down before covering her up and kissing her on the forehead.

"Sleep well, Baby. I won't be too long. Promise."

"Okay," she agreed, already feeling the heady lethargy of approaching sleep.

"I love you," he whispered tenderly.

"Love you, too."

He gave her another kiss and tucked the blankets up around her shoulders before leaving the room. She fell asleep a few minutes later, her mind uneasy and her heart troubled, though she didn't know why.


	15. Chapter 15

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: I know this ends on a cliffhanger. I was holding off posting it until I had 16 mostly done. It's 99% finished and will go to the betas soon, so I expect Ch 16 to be up within a week.

Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, Kate C, and Layla Reyne.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Something was severely wrong with Elena.

Damon was noticing subtle changes in her behavior, and she'd started to have nightmares. Dr. Fell had told him that nothing was out of the ordinary with Elena's pregnancy, and that her mood swings and bad dreams could all be attributed to her heavily pregnant, hormonal condition, but Damon wasn't convinced. He needed to consult a different kind of expert.

"Could be the compulsion or it could just be the fact that she's 34 weeks pregnant," Gloria said over the phone, after he'd explained what was happening.

"How can I be sure?" he asked worriedly. "I need to be sure."

"Only one way to do that, and that's to break the compulsion manually. But you can't because the herb you need to use is too risky for a pregnant woman."

"Deadly Nightshade," he stated with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"There's one or two other potions you can brew, but they're not as good. If you're going to go old school, baby, it's best you go _Old School_."

"Fine. Where do I get it?" Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Nowhere near you, honey, and it's not in season."

"Can I use dried?" he asked. Sometimes the dried form of a herb was less dangerous…

"It's not as effective."

"Perfect," he growled, getting frustrated.

"Now hang on a second; gimme a couple of days. I might be able to find some live plants for you."

"Thank you, Gloria."

"Don't thank me. You're going down the road of hard choices again. It almost broke you last time. You strong enough to do this?" the witch warned.

"I'll have to be," he replied with resignation, and then hung up.

The box came by special delivery two days later, and Damon knew immediately who had sent it. He unwrapped the tender plants from their protective packaging and carefully potted them in the basement room where "Uncle" Zach had once grown vervain. Deadly Nightshade was dangerous, and he knew it, so he had to be very careful to make sure Elena had no contact with the plants whatsoever. Soon he would use the berries and leaves to brew a powerful potion that would gain him unlimited access into Elena's mind. He would then be able to go into her subconscious, see what Klaus had done to her, and hopefully break the compulsion for good. But he couldn't set her free until the baby was born. Until then, he'd have to keep trying to stay one step ahead of the compulsion, and do his best to take care of his mate.

"Is that it?" Ric asked, one shoulder leaning on the doorframe.

He'd told Ric about Gloria sending the Deadly Nightshade for the potion, but he hadn't told him about his concern over Elena's increasingly unusual behavior wasn't normal. Ric had been gone the last four days following a lead on Lucy Bennett. Ghost Witch Bonnie had announced through Junior Gilbert that her relative had been seen in Boca Raton, Florida, so Damon had paid for Ric to fly down to investigate. He would have gone himself, but he was reluctant to leave Elena, and he also didn't know how the witch would react to a vampire knocking on her door.

Unfortunately, the lead had turned out to be a dead end, and Ric had flown back late last night so Damon hadn't had any time to catch up with him yet. The other man had come over shortly after noon, and now they were both in the boarding house basement while Damon tended the plants.

"Yeah," he confirmed, checking the moisture content of the pots.

"How big will they get?"

"Only about a foot the first year. Second year is when they'll grow taller," he said, adjusting the plant light for maximum exposure.

"You expecting to have them that long?"

"_Hell_ _no_. I'm planning to get rid of them as soon as the compulsion is broken. I can't have these things around when there's a kid in the house. One mouthful of the leaves or berries could be fatal to a toddler, and if the daughter is anything like her mother, I'm going to be running myself ragged trying to keep her out of trouble the moment she can crawl," he stated, rolling his eyes.

"You really think Klaus is going to leave you and Elena alone to raise the baby?" Ric asked incredulously.

"Nope. I think I'm going to dump his desiccated ass into the Atlantic Ocean, and do a jig as I watch him sink to the bottom," he answered with a cruel smile.

"Good luck doing that if we can't find Lucy Bennett," the other man complained with a frown.

"Gloria said she can do it. Ghost Witch will have a harder time channeling through her, but Gloria says it's possible."

"Any ideas on how to lure Klaus here?" Ric questioned, following him as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

"I don't think that'll be a problem. I expect he'll want to be here for the _blessed event_," he replied, putting "blessed event" in air quotes.

"How is Elena doing?"

Damon frowned and dialed up his hearing to see if his mate was anywhere within earshot. He'd left her napping upstairs, but he never knew when she, or her alter ego, would wake up. "She's been… off recently. Well, more off than usual for a woman in her condition."

Ric matched his expression as they walked down the stone-lined corridor. "How do you mean?"

"She's been acting funny ever since I found her in the nursery last week. You know, the day we worked on the garage door? When I went up to change my shirt she wasn't in our bedroom. I found her in the baby's room. She was holding a sweater in her hands, but she didn't remember why she'd gone in there."

"Another layer of the compulsion?" Ric asked, worry lines furrowing his brow.

"I think it might be. I made light of it at the time, but she hasn't been the same since."

"In what way?"

"She's just… I can't explain it. Her vibe is _off_, Ric, and I keep getting the impression that something isn't right. She's hesitating where she didn't before, and I've caught her muttering to herself when she thinks I can't hear."

"What's she saying?"

"That's the thing. You'd think I'd be able to make it out, but I can't. Once I thought I heard her say my name and then Klaus, but I can't be sure. Whatever is going on in that head of hers, it's disturbing her sleep, too. She's been having nightmares. She had one last night that scared the crap out of me. She was writhing and sobbing, and it looked like she was trying to fight someone off," he explained, shuddering at the memory as he reached the stairs to the first floor.

"Did she remember it once she woke up?"

"She said she didn't, but I know she was lying. The girl's a terrible liar."

"Worse than you?" Ric teased as he followed Damon up the stairs.

"Hey, I'll have you know I can bullshit the pants off the best of them when I have to, but we're not talking about me. Elena wasn't trying to lie to just anyone; she lied to _me._ Either it's another part of the compulsion or…"

"Or the nightmare involved you," Ric concluded.

"Bingo. My bet is it involved me. You know how she gets when the people she loves are in danger."

"Yeah," the other man agreed. "So what are you going to do?"

"What can I do? I've gotta keep looking for Lucy Bennett and hope our plan to put Klaus down finally works this time. Once she's free of him, I'll be able to go into her dreams and chase the bad ones away. In the meantime… my options are limited," he confessed.

"And if we don't find Lucy?"

"Then Gloria's our pinch witch. I'd prefer her actually. I know Gloria. She won't betray us. Lucy? Last time I saw her, she was working with _Katherine_," he said with a sneer.

Ric huffed. "Katherine. She's another one who's disappeared."

"And she can stay that way. Unless she knows where Lucy Bennett is. In which case, I'd relish the opportunity to torture it out of her."

They cleared the stairs, and Damon made a beeline for the parlor and the bourbon decanter.

"Would you really torture someone you once claimed was the love of your life?" Ric questioned.

"Katherine was not the love of my life. _**Elena**_ is the love of my life. Katherine is a manipulative, selfish bitch who I would gladly skewer repeatedly with a vervain-soaked stake," Damon corrected, pouring them both a drink.

"What did you ever see in her, anyway?" the other man asked as he accepted the tumbler.

"What did you ever see in Isobel?" Damon shot back.

"Point."

Damon took a gulp of his drink and sighed. "Katherine… she was different. She was unlike any woman I'd ever met, and she didn't treat me like everyone else did. Mystic Falls was a small town, even then. Everyone knew everyone. The girls my brother and I were expected to marry were ones we'd known since we were children. All of them treated me the same way my father treated me. Stefan was the "good" brother, and I was the irresponsible, reckless one."

"And were you?"

Damon gave Ric a look, then shrugged. "I did a lot of things when I was younger, and that was all anyone ever remembered."

"And I am sure there were also a lot of things you did that you never got credit for because no one knew you'd done them," Ric observed.

"Yeah, that, too."

Ric came close and bumped his shoulder to Damon's. It was the closest gesture of friendship and forgiveness he'd given Damon since coming back to Mystic Falls. Damon closed his eyes and leaned in. His knight was with him on the chessboard once again, protecting his Queen, but they were still missing valuable pieces, and the game was starting to heat up. There were only six weeks until December 8th, but Dr. Fell had said Elena could go into labor anytime within a ten-day period around her due date.

All of the pieces needed to be in place for the final match, and he was starting to get nervous. Klaus was sure to have a full set of chessmen on his side, but Damon feared he'd have to play with a handicap.

'_Nothing new there,'_ he mused darkly, taking another draught of his liquor. _'I'm used to making do.'_

"What's on your mind?" Ric asked.

"Nothing," he mumbled, staring into his drink. "Everything."

"You know it's going to be okay."

"No, I don't know that, Ric. It's Klaus, and Klaus always has a Plan B."

"We have a Plan B, too, you know."

Damon gave Ric a sidelong glance, one eyebrow raised. "We do?"

"Yeah." The other man smiled and shrugged. "Well, Jer and I do, at least."

"And that would be?"

"Kill you, grab Elena and run, and Bonnie hides us for the next eighty years."

Damon pursed his lips and nodded. "Good to know."

Ric chuckled and reached around Damon for the decanter so he could pour himself another drink, topping off Damon's while he was at it.

"Thanks," Damon said, clinking their glasses.

"You're welcome. I appreciate your taste in bourbon. I could never afford the good stuff."

"Yeah well, hundreds of years to invest and having an inherited business acumen have their perks," he quipped.

Ric nodded and went to sit down on one of the sofas. Damon joined him.

"So I've seen. Jer and I looked at what you've done with the Gilbert portfolios. You've done an amazing job in six years."

Damon rolled his eyes and drank. "My father only _thought_ I wasn't paying attention."

"We've been guilty of that, too. I won't make the same mistake again."

"What do you mean?"

"You see everything. You understand motivations. You know how people are going to react. You try to plan ahead with everyone's best interests in mind, but you're not afraid to make the hard choices and bear the brunt of everyone's anger," Ric explained. "You aren't afraid to take the blame."

"Are we drunk enough for this conversation?" he asked, trying to deflect their talk from where he knew it was going.

"Probably not, but we're having it. We should've had it six years ago. If we had, maybe all of this could've been avoided."

Damon knocked back his drink and swallowed hard. "Doubtful."

"Maybe, but we might have had different options."

"Or we'd all be dead because Klaus would've come for Elena, and we would've all been killed trying to protect her," he snapped back.

"Maybe. Probably. We'll never know because you made the choice you did."

Damon started to argue, but Ric cut him off. "I don't want to dredge up the past or why you made the decision you did. I understand it, even if I still disagree with it. But Damon, I see the same glint of desperation in your eyes again, and I don't want you going rogue. You don't have to carry this alone. At some point, you have to stop eating everyone else's sins."

Damon shuddered and looked at his friend. Ric _**saw**_ him. Like Elena had seen him. He was one of the very few people who ever had. It inspired in him the rare honesty only a handful of people had ever seen, but he felt he owed it to Ric, because he was one person whose sins he'd never had to eat. Ric had always borne the responsibility for his own choices, and Damon had never felt the need to protect Ric from himself.

"I don't know any other way to be. I spent most of my life cleaning up after my brother, before and _**after**_ I became a vampire. When I found out Katherine was, supposedly, trapped in the tomb, I dedicated myself to freeing her so we could be together. After that plan went all to hell, I was trying to take care of Elena. In the years when I had no one, I was an awful, selfish bastard. I _need_ someone to look after. When I'm alone, I'm just… lost," he confessed in moment of raw vulnerability and truth.

"But that's the thing. You're not alone."

Ric's hand came to rest on Damon's shoulder, squeezing perhaps harder than a human would have been able to stand, but the grip wasn't a bother at all to him. Their eyes met, understanding and forgiveness passing between them, and Damon was seconds away from cracking when he heard Elena moan upstairs. It sounded like another nightmare, and all his senses galvanized on her panting breaths and restless movements.

"Elena needs me," he said in a strained whisper.

Ric gave him an understanding smile. "Go. I'll still be here."

Damon nodded and stood, heading for the stairs. He stopped in the entryway of the parlor and looked back at his friend.

"Thanks."

Ric gave him a soft smile and saluted him with the bourbon glass. Damon chuckled and hurried up the steps. He found Elena twisted up in the sheets on their bed, fists grasping handfuls of the linen as she kicked and moaned. He leaned close to her, but did not touch her, knowing from experience that it was best to talk her out of a bad dream. They kept weapons in the bed, stuffed under the pillows and between the mattress and box spring, and in secret compartments in the bed frame. Waking her too suddenly would more than likely earn him a stake in the gut.

"Elena? Baby, you have to wake up. Sweetheart, you're having a nightmare."

Her moans became rough screams, and he heard his name in the hoarse sob that escaped her lips. Unable to take any more, he gripped her ankle and shook the bed.

"Elena! Elena, wake up!"

She came awake with a tortured cry, sitting up as quickly as her cumbersome body would allow.

"_**Damon!"**_

"I'm here! I'm right here. It's okay," he assured her.

Her eyes were wide with panic until they came to rest on him, and then they welled up with tears as she took him in.

"Damon…"

She reached for him, and he embraced her as she threw her arms around his neck and clutched the back of his shirt. Ugly, wrenching sobs wracked her body as he rocked her, whispering comforts and stroking her hair.

"It's okay. It's okay," he soothed.

"It's not. It's not okay. He's in my head. I can't get him out!"

"Klaus? Is that who's in your head?" he asked, looking over at the still slightly smoldering bowl of herbs on the bedside table. It was possible that his attempts to clear her mind were loosening the compulsion just enough for her to begin remembering what Klaus had done to her.

That could be good or very, very bad.

"He's everywhere. He wants me to do terrible things," she cried.

He made her look at him then, cupping her face in his hands. "What does he want you to do, Elena? Tell me. I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"I can't. I can't! _**I can't!**_"

"Yes, you can. Just breathe through it. Compulsion always has a breaking point. We just have to find out where this one's is. Work with me, Baby."

"I can't!"

"You can. I'm with you. I'm right here. Tell me, what are you fighting? What are you being driven to do? It's okay. Whatever it is, I'll forgive you."

She vehemently shook her head. "No. No, you won't. You _**won't!**_"

"Trust me, sweetheart. Trust me."

"No no no no no no," she gasped, getting more and more agitated, and Damon began to worry about what her current state of distress would do to the baby.

"Elena. Sweetheart. You need to calm down. You're going to hurt the baby. You need to breathe and _calm down_."

"I can't! I can't!"

"You can!" He tightened his grip on her face and forced her to look at him, impressing all of his will on her. "Tell me what Klaus wants you to do."

Her pupils contracted, and he knew he'd gotten through.

"Did you kill Finn?" she demanded.

"Did I… Did I kill _**Finn**_?" he gawked, getting angry. "Is _that_ what this is all about? If I killed Finn? Yes!_** Yes!**_ _**I killed Finn!**_"

She stilled immediately and grew quiet, but Damon knew it was the calm before the storm. He braced, getting ready for anything, and trying to run through any number of scenarios in his head as to what would happen next. Did Klaus have her bug the house? Did he hear Damon's confession? Bugs were hard to place in a vampire's home because they could still hear the faint buzz of electricity, and to be honest, he'd already thought of that, so he'd done a couple of bug "sweeps" over the last few months to check for them. But it had been a while since he'd done another one, and now he was thinking that maybe he should've been more diligent.

'_If he heard, he might have some of his hybrids already in Mystic Falls just waiting for the order to attack.'_

He hadn't seen or smelled any lately, but that didn't mean they weren't there and laying low somewhere. They couldn't get in the house because he'd put it in Elena's name (again), but that might not make a difference if she was compelled to invite any of Klaus's hybrids inside. He began planning out fight scenes in his mind depending on how many actually made it into the boarding house, and how many he and Ric could fight off. If it got to be too much, there were secret tunnels under the house that let out a safe distance away. All they'd have to do was get to the basement, and they'd be able to escape. There were secret passages leading down to the cellar as well, one of which was in his bedroom behind a false panel in the closet.

He was mulling all of that over when Elena finally moved. She started shaking, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks, and he recognized the signs of someone fighting a compulsion with everything she had.

"Elena…"

"Run, Damon! Run!" she cried out as she dove for a stake they kept wedged between the headboard and the mattress.

He almost laughed at her as she whipped it out and pointed it at him.

"Seriously? This is Klaus's grand master plan? Getting you to kill me?" he scoffed.

"I can't stop myself, Damon."

He put his hands up and tried to soothe her. "It's okay, Baby. There's no way in hell you could move fast enough for me not to be able to get away. You don't have anything to worry about."

"How can you say that?"

He shook his head. "Baby, that stake hasn't even been soaked in vervain."

"No, but these have," she countered, grabbing the pistol loaded with vervain laced bullets from underneath her pillow.

Elena fired the gun, but she was fighting the compulsion so hard that the first two shots missed, and the only reason the third and fourth managed to hit him was because he sped in close to grab the weapon from her. One bullet lodged in his left shoulder, while the other got him in the right lung. He grunted and saw stars as the pain coursed through his body, but he wasn't about to give up. He ripped the pistol out of her grasp, and sent it flying to the other side of the room, but when he was twisting to throw the gun, she'd managed to stab him in the back with the stake. He yelled and turned, but she'd already pulled the stake out and struck again, this time nailing him in the kidney.

He howled and reached behind him to grasp the stake and pull it out, dropping it on the floor and kicking it out of the way. Elena was screaming, wailing at the top of her lungs, and he grabbed her before she could retrieve any more weapons hidden in the bed. Or so he'd thought until a burning, searing sensation tore through his cheek, and he realized that she was holding a fistful of vervain against his face.

He yanked himself away from the pain, letting her go and trying to regroup even though he was bleeding from the bullet wounds and his skin was smoking from the vervain. The freedom gave her enough time to smack the hidden trigger in the headboard with her hand and withdraw the dagger they kept in the secret compartment.

He froze, staring at her, and trying to figure out his next move. Elena was panting hard, tears streaming down her face as she knelt on the bed, dagger clutched in both hands and pointed at him.

"Damon, please. You have to run," she pleaded, trembling from the effort of holding herself back.

He refused. "I'm not going anywhere, Baby. It's going to be okay. We'll figure this out."

She sobbed and shook her head. "No. We can't. He's too strong. He'll always beat us."

"No, he won't. You know us. We _always_ find a way. We won't let him win this time."

She grew quiet again, her eyes taking on a far away look that he did not like at all.

'_No, Baby, please don't do what I think you're about to do…'_ he silently begged.

"You're right. We won't. Please save my baby," she implored as she turned the knife on herself.

Having seen it coming, he was already moving at vamp speed. He hit her just as the dagger was an inch from her chest, deflecting the blade and taking the strike himself. The metal skewered through the top of his left shoulder, close to his neck, and he yowled because the damn thing was also laced with vervain, but he wasn't letting go of her this time. He pinned both of her arms to her sides by wrapping her up in a strong hug and held on as she kicked and screamed.

He tucked his face against her neck to protect his eyes just in case, and prayed that she would run out of steam before she sent herself into premature labor. Help came in the form of Ric slamming open the door and running into the bedroom.

"What the fuck?" his friend gasped, taking in the bloody carnage.

"Ric! Chloroform! Bathroom medicine cabinet! _**Now!**_" he yelled.

No one could ever accuse Alaric Saltzman of being slow on the uptake as he raced for the bathroom.

"Damon! _**Where?!**_"

"Behind the left-hand mirror!"

"_**I can't find the latch!"**_

"On the bottom edge of the frame!"

Moments later he heard a smash and the sound of shattering glass, and then Ric's heavy footfalls as he ran back into the bedroom. He smelled the chemical before he saw it, and he lifted his head enough to see Ric press a chloroform-soaked wash rag to Elena's nose and mouth. The writhing banshee in his arms went limp a moment later.

He released her then, letting her slack body slump to the mattress as he collapsed to the floor. The bullets were still in his body, and he knew he had to dig them out, but he needed to catch his breath first.

"Jesus. I heard the two of you screaming up here and then gunshots. What the hell happened?" Ric demanded, hovering over him as he rolled to his back.

"Klaus happened," he panted. "Apparently, he compelled Elena to kill me."

"Shit. Looks like she gave it a good go."

"Nah. Most of these are my fault," he admitted. "I was trying to disarm her. She was fighting it so hard that she turned the knife on herself," he admitted.

"Damn. Still a martyr then."

"Yep."

He grimaced and tried to lift his left arm, but it wasn't working properly. The bullet in his lung was making it hard to breathe, too, not that he needed oxygen, but it was disconcerting nonetheless.

"Need help?" Ric asked, crouching next to him.

"Bullets. Lung. Shoulder. Laced with vervain. Need out," he wheezed. He could feel his body trying to expel them on its own, and the pain was almost blinding.

"Okay. Do you have a scalpel?"

"Medicine cabinet. What did you do?"

"I smashed the mirror with your bathing stool.

"Seven years bad luck," he joked, coughing as bloody froth flecked his lips. The bullet was moving, and it needed to come out.

"I'll add it to my tab," Ric joke, making his way back to the bathroom to hunt for the scalpel.

Damon looked over at the bed. Elena's limp hand was hanging off the mattress, and he reached for it, rubbing the back of her palm with his thumb. His breath caught on a sob as he mentally kicked himself for not foreseeing this, and he let the tears fall silently down his face. If Ric saw them, he didn't comment, and he was grateful for that.

"Can you stand?" his friend asked a few moments later, and Damon realized that Ric had been giving him a couple of minutes of privacy to get himself together.

"Yeah," he replied, but he didn't want to get up. He wanted to stay there, holding Elena's hand. It was soft and warm beneath his fingers. It reminded him that she was still alive and with him.

"We can do this here, but I figure you'd rather do it in the bathroom if there's going to be a lot more blood."

"Yeah, you're right."

He lifted his right arm, and Ric took hold of it, pulling him up as he pushed with his legs. Standing made him dizzy from the blood loss and the vervain still in his body, but he managed to stumble to the bathroom with Ric's help. The mirror that hid the medicine cabinet was completely destroyed. Huge cracks marred the reflective surface and a section of it had been ripped away to access the storage space behind it. He was going to have to be extra careful when he cleaned to make sure he got every last sliver because he didn't want Elena cutting her foot on a piece that had fallen on the floor.

Ric let him go, and he slumped down on the wooden bath stool that Ric had dragged back into the glass-enclosed shower stall. Damon used his one fully working hand to rip off what was left of his t-shirt. It had bullet holes and tears in it anyway, so he didn't feel too bad shredding it. He half-heartedly tossed the remnants on the floor just outside of the glassed-in area.

"How do you want to do this?" Ric asked, standing in front of him with the scalpel in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in the other.

Damon took the liquor from him and lifted the bottle to his lips, drinking deep.

"Go after the one in my shoulder first. It's closer to the surface," he answered, bracing himself for the pain.

Ric nodded and wasted no time in slicing open the flesh and muscle to get at the wooden bullet lodged against his collarbone. The scalpel blade was surgical grade and razor sharp, and Damon appreciated his friend's lack of hesitation. He leaned back against the rough, stone wall and gritted his teeth to keep from crying out when Ric dug his fingers into the wound to pull out the bullet.

"Got it," Ric announced, but it wasn't necessary. Damon could feel the flesh knitting closed the second the bullet was out.

"Good. Thanks," he said, relaxing for a moment while Ric dropped the bullet into the trashcan and washed his blood-covered hands. There was blood all over Damon's chest and the floor. He would've loved to clean it up, but there was more to come.

"Ready for the next one?"

Damon took another swig from the bottle and shifted to give Ric better access to the hole over his right lung.

"Is it deep?" his friend asked.

He took his finger and poked it into the hole, fishing around for the bullet. The pain was searing, and he couldn't keep from vamping out, as he plunged his finger as far as it would go. Finally, he felt the projectile stuck beside one of his ribs.

"Cut there, about three inches. It's against the bone," he said, pulling his finger out and letting his hand slump to his side.

Ric nodded and sliced through Damon's pectoral muscle with the scalpel. Damon threw his head back and clenched both fists, trying hard not to scream as the other man made an incision wide enough for him to reach two fingers in and yank out the bullet. More blood streamed out of the wound and splattered all over his jeans and the floor.

"Done," his friend said, dropping the bullet into the trashcan near the tub.

Damon nodded and Ric patted him on the shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You still keep blood bags in the mini-fridge in the bedroom?"

"Yeah."

Ric left long enough to wash his hands again and get a bag of O-positive. Damon used his teeth to rip off the top of the spout before gulping it down. Ric handed him another as soon as he was finished the first.

"Better?"

Damon nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"You good for now? I think we need to call Meredith."

With the vervain-soaked bullets out of his body, Damon's vamp healing was kicking in, and the wounds were just about closed. He was already feeling better.

"Agreed. Do you have her number? I need to clean up in here and take a shower," he said.

"I'll take care of it."

Ric moved to leave, but Damon grabbed his arm. "Don't leave her. If she starts to wake… knock her out again."

"Is that safe?"

"Yes. No. I don't know," he admitted, letting his pain and worry show in his eyes.

"Okay. I won't leave her," Ric promised.

"Thanks," he said, releasing the other man's arm.

He rose shakily to his feet and began to unbutton his jeans. Ric started to exit the bathroom as Damon disrobed.

"Ric?" he called.

"Yeah?"

"We need to find out how much Klaus knows and how he knows it," he said gravely.

Ric looked at him, his expression serious and thoughtful, then he nodded. "Yeah, we do."

With that, Ric walked out of the bathroom, leaving Damon to shower. A moment later Damon heard him on the phone with Dr. Fell, giving her a very abbreviated version of recent events and asking for her help. Ric's voice was calm and steady, answering the doctor's obvious questions, and Damon relaxed, confident that Ric was handling things while he took the time to care for himself.

As he turned on the water and began to wash off the blood, Damon focused on Ric's tenor and allowed it to comfort him. Ric was there. Ric would take care of Elena until he was finished recovering from this ordeal. Ric would do what had to be done until he was ready to take over again. Ric would give him whatever time he needed to heal and get himself together.

It was such a relief. He'd missed Ric so much. He'd forgotten what it was like to be part of a team. He and Ric had always been amazing when they worked together, and he was elated to find that none of their edge had dulled. He and Ric were still Team Badass, and Damon was very glad to have his friend back on his side, because right now he needed Team Badass more than ever.

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A/N: PS. Again ch 16 is almost complete so I'll be sending it to the beta's within the next day or so. It'll be up soon. Also, I don't get to reply to all of my reviews, tho I do try, but I do love them & appreciate your insights.


	16. Chapter 16

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: And here it is! A little shorter than some of the other chapters. Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric, Kate C, and Layla Reyne for cranking this out ASAP for me. :D

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Chapter Sixteen

"Well, the baby looks fine," Dr. Meredith Fell announced, as she looked at the image on the laptop computer screen.

They were in the nursery, where Damon had carried Elena's unconscious body because their bedroom was a bloody mess. He didn't want to have to explain the carnage to the good doctor, and he hadn't had time to clean it up yet. He'd scrub his bedroom after he knew his mate and her unborn child were safe.

Meredith had arrived at the Boarding House within a half hour of Ric's call, and she'd brought the portable ultrasound unit with her. Damon was attempting not to hover too close to the doctor, but he wouldn't leave Elena's side. He'd opted for sitting on the bed – on the opposite side of Meredith, but giving himself a good view of the laptop screen. He could easily make out the image of the baby even though the portable unit wasn't as high-definition as the one they typically used in the office.

"So they're both okay?" he asked, trying not to sound like a nervous wreck.

"I wouldn't say that. I don't see anything glaringly wrong. The baby looks unharmed. Her heartbeat is good and strong. The umbilical cord is firmly attached to the placenta, and that looks to be in fine shape…"

"But…" he prompted, casting a glance at Ric who was standing near the padded window seat that Damon had made. The other man was frowning as he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

"But Elena's blood pressure is too high. It's 150/110."

"What does that mean?" Ric asked, playing the role of concerned father figure.

"I'm not sure. It could be from number of causes, but I always worry about preeclampsia in these situations. Right now, neither she nor the baby is in danger, but it's not something we should ignore."

"What's preeclampsia?" Ric questioned.

"It's a serious complication in pregnancy. Women who suffer from it can have seizures and go into a coma. Both the mother and the child can die," Damon replied before Meredith could, earning him odd looks from both of them. He shrugged. "What? I may have spent some time around a School of Medicine."

"Snacking on the nursing students?" Ric teased.

He grimaced, not about to admit that he'd been to medical school in the 1930's. "Something like that."

He saw his friend frown, as if he'd figured out that Damon was deflecting, and Ric cocked his head curiously, one eyebrow raised. He gave the other man a warning glare, and Ric's mouth tightened into a thin line.

"So what do we do?" Ric asked, turning his attention back to Dr. Fell.

"I'm going to keep her sedated for a while, and give her some medication to bring down her blood pressure. Hopefully that'll solve the problem. If not…"

"If not, she and the baby could be in danger, and you might have to deliver the baby early," Damon commented.

"But it's too soon. She's not due for another five weeks," Ric argued.

"Babies as young as 26 weeks can survive in the NICU. If we have to do an emergency C-section, the baby should be fine," Dr. Fell assured them. "And I'm not sure we're dealing with preeclampsia. I need to check for protein in her urine. Has she been complaining of headaches or blurred vision?'

"No," Damon answered.

"Any swelling? Sudden weight gain?"

"Nope."

"Vomiting, lethargy, sensitivity to light?"

"Nada."

Meredith sighed and looked at Elena. "Well, that's good. Hopefully it just spiked because of all the commotion. I'll check it again in a few hours."

"Hours?" Damon repeated.

"Yes. I need to check her blood pressure in six hour intervals. If it doesn't come back down, then we have a problem."

"Okay," he agreed, watching her intravenously administer two medications into his mate.

"She should sleep for another four hours. In the meantime, how about we not have a repeat of whatever caused this?" she stated.

"I told you…" Ric began, but Meredith cut him off.

"I know what you told me. I also know that you aren't telling me everything, and that's okay. I get that there are some things about this situation that you can't tell me. I've accepted that. But whatever caused you to have to _chloroform_ woman who is eight months pregnant should _**never**_ happen again, got it?"

"We didn't have a choice. She was going crazy. As it is, we aren't sure what she'll do once she wakes up," Ric explained.

"Well, you're just going to have to find a better way of dealing with whatever it is. Chloroform is dangerous. If you must sedate her, call me. I'll be back to check on her later today. When she wakes, keep her calm. And you two also stay calm and don't do anything to trigger her."

Damon was hit by a sudden wave of rage. He hadn't done _anything_ to trigger Elena's homicidal rampage – _Klaus_ had – and it was unlikely that anything he did from that point on could mitigate Elena's urge to kill him. In fact, he was expecting her to try again as soon as she woke up. Meredith's glib comments made him want to rip out her throat, and then feed on her in the most painful ways possible while she couldn't scream. Luckily, Ric was very good at reading his body language, and the man came forward to run interference.

"We'll do our best. Thank you for coming over so quickly," Ric said, putting himself between Damon and Meredith and helping her pack up the portable unit.

The doctor huffed and cast Damon an accusing glance that only made him angrier, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from tearing into her, literally. He channeled his fury into cleaning the lubricating gel off of Elena's abdomen with a towel and re-buttoning the cotton, button-down nightgown he had dressed her in. The clothes she had been wearing before had been stained with his blood, and they were now in a hamper in the wreck of his bedroom, waiting to be burned.

"I'll be back later," Dr. Fell repeated and left the bedroom, as Ric escorted her out.

Once the nursery was empty of everyone except him and an unconscious Elena, he turned his senses to scouring the room for any clues as to how Klaus had gotten to his mate, and how they were communicating. He had a pretty good idea that the answers he sought were somewhere in the room, because the nursery was where he'd found Elena standing and staring off into space.

He took a moment to kiss Elena on the forehead, and brush a hand across her hair, before leaving the bed and carefully examining the mattress, frame, and furniture for bugs or secret, hidden cameras. He was honing in on something that just smelled of Elena and didn't have his scent on it. While he was sniffing around the dresser, Ric returned and gave him an odd look.

"Can I help?"

"We're looking for something, anything, that Klaus could be using to spy on us and contact Elena," he responded.

"Like a bug or a nanny cam?"

"Exactly. And I'm pretty sure it's in this room because this is where I found her last week."

"When you found her, was she doing anything?"

"She was holding a sweater that she'd taken out of the closet."

He whipped his head around and stared at Ric as they both came to the same conclusion at once.

"Closet," they said in unison, and Damon vamp sped over as Ric joined him.

Damon threw open the closet door and began sifting through the clothing, sniffing. Ric grabbed handfuls of clothes from their hangers and shook them to see if there was anything stored in their pockets, and then he ran his hands over hems and lapels, feeling for lumps and bumps.

"Anything?" Damon asked, crouching down to see if there was a loose floorboard or wall panel.

"Nope."

Damon tapped on the wood floor to check for hollow spots, but there was nothing. He turned his attention to the shoes on racks and in their boxes on the closet floor, dumping the shoes out onto the wood. On the fifth box, a phone fell out from underneath a pair of tan-colored stiletto heels.

"Jackpot," he announced, picking up the phone.

"What is it?"

"Looks like a burner phone. I found it stuffed under a pair of shoes."

"Well, that's definitely suspicious."

Damon turned the phone on and looked at the call history. Only one number had ever been called from the phone, and nothing was in the missed or received calls directories.

"This is it," he said.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure, but I'm not about to call it to find out."

"Good idea."

"I do have them every now and then."

"Really? Can't say I've seen any," Ric quipped to ease the growing tension.

"Dick," he snapped back, glad for the humor.

"So what do we do with that?"

"Nothing. We put it back where we found it."

"Why?"

"Because we don't want Klaus to know or suspect that we're on to him. Surprise is the only thing we have to our advantage right now," he informed, turning the phone off and tucking it back under the shoes. Damon was hoping that the brief time it was on hadn't already alerted Klaus that something was up.

"Did you memorize the number? Remember Jeremy's roommate is a computer whiz. He can probably track it and find out where Klaus is," Ric stated.

Damon tapped his temple. "It's in the steel trap. Vampires never forget. We're like elephants that way, without the big ears and rough skin."

"Ah," Ric mused, but Damon could see that his friend was biting his tongue on another acerbic comment. "So what now?"

"Now we put everything back the way we found it, and I clean up my bedroom while you stay with Elena."

"Why? Don't you want to stay with her?" Ric countered, confused.

"It isn't a matter of me not wanting to stay with her. It's that I fully expect her to try to kill me as soon as she wakes."

"Do you think so?"

He nodded. "Oh yeah. Now that she's been compelled to do it, she'll be triggered every time she sees me, and she'll either come after me or stress herself out trying to fight it."

"What do we do?"

"Well, we can't keep her sedated for the next five weeks until the baby comes, so we have to let her wake up and see what happens. In the meantime, I'll call Gloria and ask her if she knows anything that can counteract it."

"Okay."

Ric helped him put the nursery back to rights, and then he left his friend sitting in the rocking chair next to the bed while he went to his bedroom. It was a mess. There was blood splattered all over the linens and the area rug. There was more blood streaked across the hardwood floor where he had bled while staggering to the bathroom, which looked like a scene from a slasher movie where someone got cut up with a machete.

Damon sighed, knowing that he'd have to burn the sheets and comforter, and probably the rug too, because getting bloodstains out of hand woven wool was virtually impossible. Luckily, the mattress was protected with a custom made, waterproof mattress pad, so that at the very least was salvageable. He made a mental inventory of everything he'd need to do, but first, he needed to call Gloria.

"Hey, Baby," the witch greeted when she answered her phone.

"Gloria," he said, pouring the last hour of grief and horror into that one word.

"Sugar, what happened?"

In quiet, controlled tones, he told her everything. He was surprised by how calm he was when his inner beast was howling, but he needed Gloria's help, and he wasn't above begging.

"Gloria, I…"

"Don't say anything else, Damon, I'm on my way," she replied without hesitation. "I've already bought a ticket on the next flight out of Chicago. You got someone who can pick me up from the Roanoke airport?"

"I can do it, and I'll reimburse you for the plane fare," he promised, letting his relief show in his voice.

"Don't worry, Honey, I charged it to your credit card. I still have it in my PayPal."

"Ahh, sneaky witch."

"_**Smart**_ witch, Sugar. You're loaded. I co-own a bar. I'll be there in a few hours. I'll text you my itinerary."

"Okay," he said with a small smile on his lips. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Baby. In the meantime, if you can't keep Elena knocked out until I get there, make sure she doesn't see you."

"Understood."

"See you soon, Honey. Stay strong."

"I will."

She hung up, and Damon let out a shaky breath, releasing the tension in his shoulders. Gloria was coming, so he mentally added her to the chessboard as a bishop. With any luck, she'd have some mojo that could help Elena not endanger herself while trying to not kill him. One item on his to-do list done, he went downstairs to get the cleaning supplies. Ric found him rolling up the area rug after having moved his huge bed.

"Klaus owes me an new rug," he stated flatly.

"What are you going to do with that one?"

"Burn it. We have an outdoor pit we use to burn large _things_."

"Sounds like you do this kind of stuff often."

"Vampire, Ric. There's not enough peroxide in the world to get the blood out of some of the messes my brother and I have made. There's a reason we don't have wall-to-wall carpeting in this house."

Ric shifted uncomfortably. "Need help?"

"You can help me by staying with Elena. I don't want her to be alone when she wakes up. Gloria's on her way. I'm hoping she has some mojo that can help us."

"I talked to Jeremy. Do you have the number that was in the burner phone? His roommate is going see if he can track it, and get us a location."

He rattled it off from memory, and Ric left him to his cleaning. He took the area rug to the burning pit along with the bloodied clothes and linens, doused them with gasoline and set them on fire. Then he returned to his bedroom, scrubbing the blood from the hardwood floor and scouring the bathroom. He used bleach on the tiles and shower stall, holding his breath until he was finished thoroughly rinsing the area because he couldn't stand the stench of the chlorine.

The bathroom mirror was a lost cause, so he took the whole thing down, frame and all, and threw it in the Boarding House trash pile. He'd have to order a new mirror, but there was a website for a store he knew that specialized in antique and vintage home fixtures, so finding a new one – or replacing both – wouldn't be too difficult. He swept the bathroom floor and cleaned the grout with a toothbrush to make sure there were no glass shards anywhere for Elena to step on.

When he was done cleaning, he redressed the bed in a new set of sheets and retrieved a spare eiderdown his cedar chest. Then he went about disarming the bedroom, removing every weapon or weapon-of-opportunity from the room. He had an idea that Elena was going to have to be confined until something could be done about her vampi-cidial tendencies, and he wanted her in his bedroom where she would be comfortable. His was the only room with an en-suite bathroom, and the only reason it had one was because he'd put it there when the Boarding House was last remodeled. He'd taken the time to update it on a regular basis, making sure it stayed equipped with all of the modern conveniences.

Everyone thought Stefan was the steward of the Salvatore estate, but Mr. Bunny Muncher was often too busy recovering from his latest Ripper bender to be concerned with a new hot water heater or replacement stove. If it hadn't been for Damon, the Boarding House wouldn't have been outfitted with ductless air conditioning or the fancy, high-end water filtering system that was guaranteed to remove even vervain. Just in case someone from the Founder's Council decided to spike the water supply. It had happened before in the past, and getting chemical burns while trying to take a shower really sucked.

Whether the current caretaker of the property knew it or not, Damon had made it a point to do an inspection every five years to categorize everything that was needed to keep the house in good order, and then he would contract workers to have it done. Crews would show up on the door step with work orders paid for by Damon Salvatore, and whoever was living there would – hopefully – be smart enough to let them in. The caretaker would also have a number to call in case of emergencies; like when the boiler blew up and the house was without heat. "Uncle" Zach's father had called the emergency number, and Damon had arranged for HVAC people to show up less than 24-hours after the incident with a new boiler and equipment to modernize the ductwork.

One of Damon's regrets was the loss of the Salvatore Mansion. He'd been the one to burn it down, but he'd only done so to hide the fact that Stefan had been using the house as his killing grounds. There were bodies upon bodies buried under the rubble of the house his father had built, and only Damon and Stefan remained to remember that they were there.

Sometimes Damon would visit the ruins and find flowers on the unmarked graves. He'd then call Stefan and taunt his brother for his "weakness." Because placing dying plant life on the spot of more dead was the best way to atone for his sins. Better than, say, actually getting control over his blood lust so he didn't rip a human victim to pieces when he fed.

Damon had never had any use for empty gestures and useless platitudes, whether they be as declarations of love or remorse. He believed that the best way to atone for wrongs was to accept responsibility for one's mistakes, make restitution, and not repeat the sins. Stefan refused to learn from his past, and therefore he was doomed to repeat history while Damon watched helplessly from the sidelines. The only thing he could do was clean up the mess and try to hide Stefan's tracks, all while being called the "evil" one, the "bad" one who did awful, selfish things.

At one point, he'd decided that if he was going to be bad, he'd be damn good at it, so he'd shucked off his humanity like a second skin, flipped his switch and let it all go. He'd spent the next several decades doing what he'd wanted, when he'd wanted, with no regrets. He hadn't come out of his self-imposed detachment until he'd met Elena that night on the road near the Wickery Bridge and had mistaken her at first for Katherine. One look at her and his humanity had turned back on, and he hadn't been able to shut it off again no matter how hard he'd tried or pretended that he didn't care.

Damon had loved Elena. Even when she'd hated him, rejected him and used him, he'd still loved her. And now that she did love him, having to do what he knew he needed to do was that much harder. He'd have to stay away from her even though every cell in his body screamed that she needed him and that he should be with her. He was going to have to be stronger than he'd ever been and keep his distance.

Six years ago, he'd been able to leave Elena with Klaus because he'd known that she wasn't ready to admit her feelings for him. Now? Now that he had her, letting her go was going to be almost impossible, but he would do it. He had to. If he didn't, she and the baby would be at risk, and he loved her enough to do what was best for the both of them.

In the end, though, he proved he was a complete whipped pansy because two hours later when he heard Elena start sobbing, he was by her side in a vamp second with no clear memory of how he'd gotten up the stairs from the parlor. Ric didn't even have time to stand up before Damon had her in his arms, shushing and comforting her. To her credit, she lasted a whole minute before she started shaking.

"Damon…" she whimpered, but there was warning in her voice.

"I know, Baby. I have to get out of here, but I had to see you," he confessed, hugging her as close as he dared.

She stiffened and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. "Oh god, how can you even stand to be near me? I tried to kill you! I shot you, and I stabbed you…"

"Shhh, I forgive you. I _**forgive**_ you. You're not yourself. Klaus has compelled you. It's okay. Gloria's on her way. She's going to help us."

"Oh my god! Are you okay?"

"I'm _**fine**_. See?" He pulled back enough for her to see him. She poked at his shirt where the wounds had been on his chest as if she needed to feel for herself that he was unharmed.

"But I hurt you…"

"_**Vampire**_. I'm all healed up. There's not even a scar. And I told you that no matter what you did, I'd forgive you, and I do."

Her face fell, her eyes spilling over with tears. "Damon…"

"It's okay, I understand."

She shook her head and clenched her hands into fists. "I love you. I love you so much, but every part of me is screaming that I want you dead," she cried.

He nodded. "I know, and I'm going to leave…"

"No! Don't leave me!" she begged, panicked, and he rushed to reassure her.

"Shhh, I'm just going to be downstairs where you can't see me. If you see my face, or hear my voice, you'll be triggered. Trust me, Baby, I'm not going anywhere."

She looked at him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stroked his hair and face. "Damon…"

"It's okay. I promise. We'll get through this. I cleaned up the bedroom. I want you to go back in there."

"No, I can't…"

"It has the bathroom right there. This room doesn't. If you have to be stuck in a room until we figure this shit out, that's where you should be," he explained, noticing that her hands were now on his shoulders.

"But I tried to kill you in that room…"

"Lots of people have tried to kill me in my own bed, Sweetheart. I almost died in that bed from Wonderdog's werewolf bite, remember?"

She chuckled through her tears even as her fingers tightened their grip. She was seconds away from trying to strangle him.

"You'll be more comfortable there. Ric'll be with you. He won't leave your side."

"Damon…" she said plaintively, and it just about broke his heart.

"I know. You want to skewer me with a hot poker. Most women do after a while of being with me," he said, trying to joke. "I have to leave in an hour and drive to Roanoke to pick up Gloria from the airport. I've already told her what's going on, and she's going to help us."

"I called Jeremy, too. He's on his way down. He'll leave after class," Ric added.

"Jer? Oh, no, no, no. He has mid-terms," Elena argued.

"He's going to talk to his professors. He said he doesn't have any more exams until the week before Thanksgiving, and most of his profs are cool. We could use his help, and Bonnie's through him."

"See, Baby? We don't have to do this all by ourselves. There are lots of folks to help us. We're not in this alone," he told her, echoing Ric's earlier words.

He lifted her hands from his shoulders and held them in both of his, comforting and restraining her at the same time. She gave him a tremulous smile, and he knew that she'd realized what he was doing.

"Yeah. We always work better as a team," she agreed.

"So long as one of us doesn't go rogue," Ric warned, coming to stand beside Damon and putting a hand on Damon's shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, Dad, I get it. No going off on my own. No killing bad guys without you. Next thing you know, you'll be telling me to color inside the lines," he complained, casting a grateful glance up at his friend. Ric's presence was making Elena split her attention, and that was helping with her urge to kill.

"Something tells me you've never colored inside the lines," Ric commented.

"When I was born, all we had were lines. I crossed them as soon as I could," he answered seriously.

It was true. Back then, society was rigid and uncompromising. He was a Salvatore. He was expected to conduct himself in ways that befitted and benefited the Salvatore family, regardless of what he wanted or how he felt. As eldest son, it was assumed that he would take over the family business, marry a woman his father approved of, and breed heirs for the family line.

He'd done none of those things, and had, in fact, disgraced his family more than once, but he hadn't cared. He'd never worn the yoke of duty well, and he'd happily turned over his father's great expectations to his younger brother. Stefan did well under restraints whereas Damon had too much of his mother's wildness in him. Stefan enjoyed structure, even thrived under it. Stefan needed a purpose and a set regimen. When left to his own devices, Stefan went… well, he went off the rails like he had with Klaus, and it was years before he could pull himself back on the wagon. Normally, Stefan would do it when his friend Lexi showed up, but Damon had killed her (he'd had his reasons, and they'd been _**good**_ ones at the time), so there was no one to pull Stefan back from the edge – at least not while he was still under Klaus's thumb and paired with Rebekah.

Elena shuddered and bowed her head, bringing Damon back to himself, and he knew she was reaching the end of her control. It was time for him to make his exit.

"Damon…"

"I get it. I'm going now."

"I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't be. We'll get through this. I love you."

He released her hands and gave her a fierce kiss before forcing himself to leave the room. He refused to let himself look back at her, but he did fist bump Ric in thanks, knowing the man would take good care of his mate in his absence. Ric had always felt responsible for Elena and Junior Gilbert, and right now Elena needed a father figure. He was hoping Gloria would help provide a motherly influence, although she could be stern and unsympathetic at times. He prayed that the witch would quickly learn that Elena did best when nurtured instead of controlled.

He closed the nursery door behind him as he stepped into the corridor, taking a deep breath in an attempt to remain calm. It took everything he had not to rush back to the bedroom when Elena started sobbing again, but he held firm, knowing that seeing him just made it worse for her. He kept an ear on her as he made himself walk back downstairs while Ric helped her move from the nursery to their bedroom, and he listened until Ric had her safely ensconced in their room and her tears had stopped.

Down in the parlor, he poured himself a hefty drink of bourbon because the only way he was going to be able to keep himself from Elena's side was with the help of a steady supply of alcohol. Then he sat down to drink it, counting the minutes until he could leave to go pick up Gloria.


	17. Chapter 17

The Rain King

By Terri Botta

Summary: Sequel to The Queen of Unintended Consequences. Six years after Damon leaves Elena with Klaus, he's called back to handle a delicate situation. An AU Season 3 fic.

A/N: Many thanks to my awesome betas Glamoured-by-Eric and Kate C..

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

"So, can you fix me?" Elena's worried voice asked.

She was up in their bedroom with Gloria while Damon paced in the parlor like a caged animal, listening to every word they said. The witch had gone up the moment they'd arrived at the Boarding House after he'd picked her up from the airport, giving him strict orders to stay away. Ric had come downstairs to stay with him, keeping them both supplied with alcohol.

"Now, hold on a minute, Baby Girl. I need to take a good look at you. See what I'm dealing with," he heard Gloria reply.

"I don't want to hurt him," Elena confessed, choking on a small sob.

"And you won't. We won't let you. Now just gimmie a sec. I gotta work some of my juju on you."

Damon snorted and knocked back a double of bourbon before slamming the tumbler down on the sideboard.

"Easy there. You're the one always going on about how you can't have nice things because us humans always break your stuff. If you crack that table top, it'll be your own fault," Ric scolded.

He growled, then vamped out and sped up the stairs at the sound of Elena's cry of pain. Unfortunately, he hit an invisible wall when he tried to enter his bedroom.

"Gloria!" he yelled, slamming a fist against the barrier. "What have you done!"

"Hush, now, Sugar. It's only temporary," the witch's disembodied voice answered.

"I heard Elena cry," he stated, growling.

"I just pricked her finger. I needed a bit of her blood to work my juju. Don't you worry none, I'm not going to hurt your girl."

"Let me in damnit!"

"No can do, honey pie. Girls only. Right, Sugar?"

"Damon, I'm okay, but you have to get out of here. The sound of your voice makes me want to kill you," Elena pleaded.

"Oh, honey, I know what you mean. Back in the Twenties, that vampire was a sweet-talking disaster on two legs, but he was better than his brother. At least with Damon, you stood a chance of not getting ripped to pieces."

He growled again and began pacing the hall until Ric came up the stairs looking pained and uncomfortable.

"You know what it's like to have a witch in your head?" his friend asked.

"What?" he snapped, glaring at the closed bedroom door and testing to see if the barrier was still up. It was.

"Gloria. She's in my head. She's telling me to, and I quote: drag your annoying ass back downstairs before she comes out here and turns your man parts into swizzle sticks."

"And you believed her?" he countered.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do? I have a hundred-year-old voodun mambo giving me telepathic orders. I'm a little freaked out here."

Damon snarled at the closed door, but gave in. "Fine! Go after my friends and my manhood, bitch!"

"I know how to hit you where it hurts, Sugar, now get outta here," Gloria's amused voice replied.

He punched the wall so there'd be no doubt that he was not amused, but he did follow Ric back downstairs.

His mood had not improved any by the time Gloria came down the stairs thirty minutes later.

"Well?" he demanded, trying to quell the violent urges to kill that coursed through his body. The beast was never closer to the surface than when he was stressed and upset.

Gloria shook her head and whistled. "I've seen a lot of compulsions, honey, but I ain't never seen one like that. It ain't even like a normal compulsion. It's more like a hypnosis."

"So? Do what you need to do. Wave your magic wand, hocus pocus, begone hypnosis-compulsion, whatever," he snapped back, waving his arms for dramatic effect.

"It don't work like that, and you know it," Gloria countered, frowning at him.

"What _**can**_ you do? Can you make it so that she doesn't want to kill him? He's going crazy here," Ric interrupted.

"I can see that, but it's too dangerous. I'm afraid to mess with this before the baby is born. Anything I do could send her into premature labor. What I can do is cast a spell that creates an illusion making him look and sound like someone else."

"Who would you make me look like?" he asked.

"I don't know, honey, someone less sexy than you?" Gloria answered sarcastically.

He shrugged. "That would be everyone."

"Conceited much?" Ric questioned.

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm an eternal stud. Look at me. My skin is flawless."

"Make him look like the Elephant Man or Napoleon Dynamite," Ric suggested.

"Gee, thanks, brother."

"You're welcome," Ric replied with a cheeky smirk.

"Even then, there's no guarantee that it would work. The geas may affect her even through an illusion because she would know it was you even if you didn't look or sound like you," Gloria stated.

"At this point, I'm willing to try anything as long as it doesn't risk her or the baby," Damon admitted.

"Okay. I can anchor the spell to a piece of jewelry."

Damon's hand went immediately to his No Mojo necklace, but he discarded that idea immediately. Then he thought of his pocket watch with the hidden twist of Elena's hair, but he decided against that, too. He made a mental catalog of his personal jewelry inventory and remembered a turquoise and silver ring he had bought during his time in the Southwest.

"There's a turquoise and silver ring in the jewelry case in the top drawer of the dresser in my closet. You can use that," he offered.

The witch nodded. "I'll give it a try, but there's no guarantee it'll work. I need you to know that."

He indicated his agreement and understanding. "Noted."

"What will happen if it doesn't work?" Ric asked.

"She'll still have the urge to kill him," Gloria answered.

"And then what?" Ric pressed.

"Either he stays away from her or she has to be moved somewhere else where he can't get to her."

He snarled and vamped out almost immediately. "You aren't taking Elena _**anywhere!**_"

Gloria seemed unimpressed by his show of fangs. "The only other option will be to put her in a chemically induced coma for five weeks."

He pushed back his game face and shook his head. "If it doesn't work, I'll stay away from her."

"Can you do that?" Ric asked.

"I did it for six years after I left her with Klaus. I can do it for five weeks until she has the baby. After that… game on," he warned.

"We'll have a lot more options available to us after the baby comes," Gloria confirms. "Speaking of which, where did you plant that Deadly Nightshade I sent you?"

"In the basement where Zach grew the vervain."

"How is it doing?"

He shrugged. "Fine the last time I checked on it."

"It usually transplants well if you have the right soil," the witch commented. "It should be ready by the time we need it to make the potion."

"Okay."

"I'll go ahead and spell your ring. I'll need some of your blood to anchor it," Gloria said. He rolled up his sleeve and offered his arm without hesitation causing Gloria to smile. "Not yet, Baby. I'll get to you when I'm ready."

He shrugged and rolled his sleeve down again. "Whatever you need."

"I brought most of what I need with me. I like to be prepared."

"You always were such a boy scout," he teased.

"Had to be with the likes of you running around. I'll go get that ring."

The witch headed back upstairs, and Damon had to force himself not to follow her. The need to see Elena and make sure she was okay was almost overwhelming. He opted instead for grabbing a blood bag for himself and starting dinner for the humans in the house. Cooking calmed him down some, and he prepared a meal of handmade pappardelle with parsley pesto, escarole soup with chicken and mini meatballs, and garlic bread. He took part of his frustration out on the pasta dough as he pounded out the air bubbles and rolled the dough flat, then he dropped the pasta into the boiling water and set the timer while he chopped the parsley and minced the garlic for the pesto.

By the time dinner was ready, he was calmer and more focused, and he announced the meal as he brought the serving bowls of steaming food to the table. Knowing that it was unlikely that Elena would come down to eat, he made up a tray for her that someone could take up to the bedroom. Ric came into the dining room and took a seat at the table.

"Jeremy just called. He's almost to Mystic Falls. He'll be coming straight here instead of going to the Gilbert house," the man said.

Damon nodded and immediately went to the china cabinet to get another place setting for Elena's brother. As he was putting down the plate and silverware, Gloria entered the room holding his silver and turquoise ring in her fingers.

"This is almost ready. All I need now is your blood to anchor the spell to you and the ring," she told him.

Without missing a beat, he took one of the steak knives from the silverware storage chest in the china cabinet drawer and sliced his arm across the vein, offering the blood as it dripped down his skin.

"Well, I didn't need that much, Baby. Just a few drops'll do," the witch chided, holding the ring under the spilling blood.

Damon held a napkin under the wound to prevent any blood from dripping onto the floor before the cut healed over.

"Dinner's ready. I made up a tray for Elena," he told her.

"I'll take it up to her," Gloria offered. "The spell should be done setting by the time she's finished eating."

He motioned towards the tray which was made up like a place setting in a fancy restaurant, complete with folded linen napkin and a budvase holding a daisy. Gloria smiled at the formal look of it and shook her head.

"Honey, you are a gentleman through and through."

"If you tell anyone, I will make your life an eternity of misery."

The witch laughed. "I don't have an eternity to give you, Sugar, but you're secret's safe with me regardless."

They exchanged a tender look that spoke of the intimacies they had once shared, and Damon managed a small smile. He watched as Gloria took the tray and whisked it out of the dining room.

"What was that?" Ric asked.

"What was what?"

"That look you gave each other just now."

Damon shrugged. "Nothing."

"Nothing? That was not nothing. Don't tell me you and Gloria… Damn it! Is there any woman in your life that you _**haven't**_ slept with?"

"Hey, I can't help it if women find me irresistible," he argued. "And I haven't slept with Carol Lockwood or Liz Forbes or your good doctor Meredith Fell."

"Well that's good to know."

He smirked. "Not that Carol hasn't been after my tight ass since before her husband died. That woman gives new meaning to the word, Cougar. Rawr."

Ric rolled his eyes. "You are impossible."

"You're just figuring that out?" he asked, pouring them both glasses of wine.

"No, but I think I blocked it out for my own mental health."

Damon chuckled and clinked his glass against Ric's as he sat down to enjoy the food he'd made. Ten minutes later they heard the Boarding House's front door open and Jeremy's voice call.

"I'm here!"

"In the dining room," Ric answered.

They followed the sound of clomping, boot clad feet until the younger man appeared in the doorway.

"Hey. Oh, dinner's ready. Great, I'm starving!"

Damon waved a hand towards the place set for him. "Help yourself."

Jeremy grinned and sat down, reaching for the bowl of pasta and the bread. "Awesome. Thanks so much."

"Anytime," Damon said with a tight smile.

"How'd it go with your professors?" Ric asked.

"About as I expected. Professor Morgan tried to give me shit, but I was like: it's my sister, man, and she needs me. I'm going whether you like it or not, and he gave in. How's Elena?"

"She's okay. Gloria is with her now. She's casting a spell on one of Damon's rings to make him look like someone else."

"I know. Bonnie scouted ahead of me. She told me about the illusion spell," Jeremy admitted between bites. "She's not sure it'll work."

"Why not?" Ric asked.

"Coz Elena will still know it's Damon. That alone may be enough to trigger whatever it is Klaus has put on her."

"Gloria was saying she's never seen anything like it before," Ric confirmed.

Jeremy nodded as he downed a glass of water and swallowed a hunk of garlic bread. "Yeah. Bonnie's trying to find out what she can on her end. God, this is good. You're dead, man, how come you can cook like this?"

"Decades of boredom. Had to do something with my time. After a while murder and mayhem loses its appeal," Damon answered drolly.

Jeremy shrugged and took a second helping of bread.

"So what's different about what Klaus has done to Elena?" Ric questioned.

"It's not like a regular compulsion. When a vamp compels someone, there're telltale markers on the person's memory. Bonnie says with Elena, there aren't any. It's almost like she's compelled herself. It's weird."

"So how does Witchy Woo say we break it?" Damon asked.

"That's it. She doesn't know. Normally, taking out the vamp who did the compelling breaks the compulsion, but Bonnie isn't sure even incapacitating Klaus will undo what he's done to her."

"So I'm back to having to break it manually," Damon said unhappily.

"You have the Deadly Nightshade yet?" Jeremy asked.

"In the basement," Damon answered.

Jeremy nodded and kept eating. Damon secretly wondered if the boy had a hollow leg, but then he remembered that Junior Gilbert could always pack away at least twice as much food as the average kid his age should be able to eat.

They were just about finished eating when Gloria returned to the dining room carrying the tray she'd brought up to Elena. The plates and bowls were empty so it looked like Elena had eaten. Damon rose to his feet and took the tray from the witch, taking it into the kitchen and putting it with the rest of the dirty dishes. Gloria had sat down to eat her own meal by the time he got back. He knew from past experience with her that magic use worked up an appetite.

"How's Elena?" he couldn't help asking.

"She's fine. Stressing about all this, which is no good for a girl in her condition," the witch answered, then she asked for cayenne pepper. He got up immediately and fetched the spice from the kitchen.

"How's the baby?" he questioned, handing her the spice shaker.

"Staying put as far as I can tell, which is a miracle considering what her mother's been through. Most women would've gone into premature labor by now."

"My girl's a warrior princess who never gives up," he stated with pride.

"No, honey, you're the one who never gives up. I've never seen anyone cling to a dream as tight as you do," Gloria corrected.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped.

"It means if there's anyone who's going to figure out a way out of this mess, it'll be you, Baby. I meant it as a compliment."

He huffed and looked away from Gloria's serious gaze. "Yeah, well, I just fight for those I love."

"I know, Sugar. That's why we're all here. We're fightin' for those we love. Here. Try this on for size, and we'll see how it works," the witch replied, offering him the be-spelled ring.

He stared at it for a long time before accepting it and slipping it on his right-hand ring finger. He felt the magic envelop him, but after the initial surge of power, he didn't feel any different. His first clue that the illusion spell had worked was junior Gilbert spitting his mouthful of wine all over the table just before he doubled over in a fit of hysterics. A glance to the other occupants of the table showed that they were similarly amused.

"What?" he demanded.

"Oh! Oh, man, Gloria, you are brilliant!" Jeremy said, still laughing.

"What do you mean? What the fuck do I look like?" he growled.

"More like _**who**_ do you look like," Ric corrected.

"Who do I…?" he repeated, then got up and stalked to the parlor and the mirror that was by the door.

When he looked at his reflection and took in the dark skin, dark eyes and long, black hair, he recognized the face looking back at him immediately.

"What the fuck!" he exclaimed.

He heard Junior Gilbert – soon to be _**ex**_-Gilbert if he didn't stop laughing – chuckling as he stomped his way back to the dining room.

"Seriously? You made me look like _**Taylor Lautner?**_ I don't know which is worse, looking like that stupid wolf from Twilight or _**not**_ looking like that pansy-ass, sparkling vampire that Bella chick chose instead of him! I _**will**_ get you for this!"

"Oh c'mon, Baby, you know how I love a man with long, black hair," Gloria explained with a smirk.

"Then why didn't you make me look like Chris Angel?"

"I want her not to have the urge to kill you, Sugar, not be scared out of her mind."

"Johnny Depp then?"

"You're not asking for much, are you?" Ric quipped.

He growled at his friend and left the dining room to head up the stairs and test out the new look.

"Elena? Baby?" he called, knocking lightly on the closed door.

"Damon? Is that you?"

"Yeah. May I come in?"

"Well, you don't sound like you, so I guess so."

He took a deep breath and opened the door, entering the room slowly.

"Well?"

Elena was sitting on the bed, and he saw her eyes open wide right before she started giggling.

"I can't believe she did it," his mate blurted, covering her mouth with her hands.

"This was _**your**_ idea?" he demanded, closing the door behind him.

"I meant it as a joke!" she exclaimed.

"Baby, you should know by now that witches have a twisted sense of humor."

"I'm sorry. It was a joke Caroline and I used to have about Tyler and his being a werewolf. We used to tease him and tell him to grow his hair long like Jacob because he already had the furry side and a penchant for motorcycles," she explained, blushing.

"So it was Blondie's idea by proxy. I should've known," he said, rolling his eyes as he stepped close to her.

She shook her head and smiled. "I should never have said anything to Gloria about it."

He shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. Is it working? Do you have any urges to kill me?"

"No, but I have a strong compulsion to rub your belly."

"I'm not rolling over for you," he told her with a smirk.

"Oh, I think you would if I asked nicely enough," she teased, smiling at him as she ran her hands up his arms.

He snorted. "Watch it with the dog jokes."

"You think I don't know I have you leashed?"

"Hardee har har. Well, I think you know how I react when someone yanks my chain," he said with a growl even as he leaned down to kiss her. God, he needed to touch her so badly, to smell her and feel her and know she was alright.

She leaned into him, and he sighed with relief.

"Elena…" he whispered, moving to kiss her again.

He had almost no warning before she grabbed a wooden pencil from the bedside table and stabbed him in the shoulder with it.

"Elena! What the fuck!" he yowled, veering back to pull the weapon out of his flesh. Where had the damn thing even come from?

"Damon! Oh my god!" she cried, her eyes wide with horror.

"What the hell just happened? I thought you said you didn't have the urge to kill me!"

"I didn't! But then you kissed me, and… and you tasted the same, and I just… I couldn't stop myself."

She started to cry, and he rushed to comfort her, but she reared back, scrambling away from him.

"No, Damon. You smell the same, too. I can't! You can't come near me."

"So you're telling me that I can see you, and talk to you, but I can't touch you or get close to you?" he complained through gritted teeth.

She nodded, still crying. "It looks that way. I am so so sorry…"

He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's okay. We'll work it out. Where did that pencil come from anyway?"

"I… I don't know. It was just there."

"Elena, I removed all potential weapons from this room before I let Ric bring you back in here. I can tell you there were no wooden pencils in this room when I was done with it."

She looked confused and worried. "I… I don't know…"

He snarled and moved to the bedroom door, throwing it open and yelling out into the hallway. _**"Gloria!"**_

Both the witch and Ric came running up the stairs.

"What happened?" Ric demanded.

"I knew it was too quiet up here. What happened, Sugar?"

He motioned to Elena, signaling her to explain.

"Everything was fine until he kissed me. Then I had the urge to kill him, and I stabbed him with a pencil," she told them, sniffling.

"A pencil? Baby girl, where'd you get a pencil?" Gloria questioned.

"She doesn't know," Damon replied, a deep frown on his face.

"It was just there on the nightstand," Elena insisted.

"So you were okay with him until he touched you?" Ric asked.

Elena nodded. "But when he kissed me, the urge to kill him came back."

"She said I smelled and tasted the same."

"I'm not surprised. The spell makes you look and sound different, but it doesn't change who you really are. It's just an illusion," Gloria said.

"Everything okay?" Junior Gilbert asked, joining the peanut gallery in the bedroom.

"Jer! When did you get here?" Elena greeted happily.

"A little while ago."

"Did you clear your absence with your professors?"

"Yeah, it's all worked out. It's cool."

"Hello! Stabbed in the shoulder with a pencil that shouldn't have been there!" Damon complained, trying to bring them all back on point.

"Damon! Don't be rude," Elena scolded.

"Don't be rude? I kissed you, and you tried to kill me again. I think I've earned the right to be a little irate!" he snapped back.

"Easy, Baby, no need to get all upset and angry. You know how you get when you're overstressed," Gloria soothed.

"Yeah. Homicidal. Now fix this and figure out where that damn pencil came from!"

"Gloria can't fix it, Damon. The spell's only an illusion," Jeremy said.

"So? Make me feel and smell different, too."

"It's not that simple. To do that would require a shape change, and undead flesh doesn't alter form that easily," the witch explained.

"I can turn into a crow. You don't get much more altered than shifting _this_ into a bird," he countered, gesturing towards himself.

"You can?" Elena blurted.

He shrugged. "I haven't done it in a long time. I can control fog, too."

Elena's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't have been in the Mystic Falls Cemetery one afternoon eight years ago, would you?"

He grimaced and blanched. "Ummm."

"It _**was**_ you! All this time I thought I was crazy! Were you stalking me in the graveyard?"

"I was stalking my brother, who was stalking you in the graveyard."

"And you had to do that by changing into a big crow and surrounding me with all this creepy-ass fog?"

"I was going for dramatic effect trying to remind my douche brother that his vegetarian diet was making him weak. Besides, that was before I switched my emotions back on," he replied, offended.

"And that's supposed to make it okay?"

"Hey, I did a lot of bad shit when my switch was off. Turning into a crow and scaring you with the fog was the least of it."

"Like what you did to Caroline?" she accused.

"Blondie asked for it. She ran after my tail like a bitch in heat the moment she realized that she didn't have a chance with precious golden boy, Stefan."

"Are you calling my friend a slut?"

He was about to snarl a well-worded retort when he felt a mental slap on the back of his head.

"Hey!"

"Both of you knock it off. You're messing with my juju," Gloria said as she closed her eyes and ran a hand over the bloody wooden pencil where Damon had thrown it on the floor.

They watched as the pencil began to glow, and Gloria waved a hand, muttering something under her breath. They all gasped when a moment later the seam around one of the floorboards on Elena's side of the bed began to glow.

"Well, whaddya know," Damon mused, bending down to pry the board up.

"Better let me do it," Ric said, stopping him. "Could be boobytrapped to skewer you with a wooden stake or hit you in the face with vervain."

He had to admit that Ric had a point, so he let his friend take the lead and moved to a safe distance away as the other man pried up the floorboard with a pocketknife. He heard Ric whistle appreciatively as he peered down into the cache.

"Well, someone's been busy," Ric commented, reaching down into the hidden compartment and pulling out a whole host of weapons ranging from stakes to pencils to bottles of vervain. There was even a modified .22 pistol loaded with wooden bullets.

"This is the gun I gave you when I was teaching you how to fight," Ric said, examining the gun and unloading it. "I always wondered what happened to it."

"How'd it get there?" Elena asked.

"Hell if I know. Damon?" the man replied.

"Don't look at me. I didn't put that stuff there," Damon answered.

All eyes turned to Elena who was looking stricken.

"I… I don't remember putting any of that in there. I didn't even know that hiding spot existed until a minute ago," she argued. "I couldn't have put them in there. I… Oh! Oh, my god. Oh, my god!"

Damon saw the coming meltdown looming, and he tried to head it off.

"Elena, Baby, it's okay. We've known for a while that your alter ego was doing things without your knowledge. Now we know she was a lot busier than we originally suspected. This is nothing new," he soothed.

"Nothing new! There's a fucking arsenal in there! I could've killed you in your sleep anytime!" she cried.

"But you _**didn't**_," he stressed. "That tells me you have more control than you think you do. We can _**beat**_ this!"

"How can you be so sure? How do you know I wasn't just waiting for the perfect moment to shove a stake in your heart? How do you know I wasn't planning to kill you all along!"

She looked around her, her eyes panicked and her hands grasping at the linens. "How do we know I haven't hidden more weapons in this room? There could be stakes sewn into the curtains! Vervain syringes in my shoes!"

"If there are, we'll find them," Ric assured her.

"How do you know I won't just hide new ones? My mind isn't my own! I don't have control over my body! Oh my god! Klaus didn't just have me raped, he's been raping me over and over! He's controlled everything I've done for the last four months!"

"He didn't have control over everything. You were your own much of the time," he countered.

"We don't know that. Maybe it was all part of the plan. Giving me the illusion of control all the while making me plan to kill you behind our backs."

He took a step forward, but Elena put up her hands to stop him.

"No, Damon! You can't come near me!"

"Fuck this shit," he said with a sneer.

He yanked the ring off his finger and threw it across the room before he rushed at Elena and grabbed her in a bear hug. She fought him, pounding his back with her fists.

"Damon! No! No! No!" she screamed.

"Damon, buddy, c'mon…" Ric tried, coming too close.

He vamped out and snarled, dragging Elena to the middle of the bed and putting her between himself and the headboard as his beast went into full-fledged mate guarding.

"Now, now, Honey Pie, you don't want to do this. Don't make me hurt you," Gloria warned.

They came closer, and he doubled down, crouching into a defensive position while Elena curled into a sobbing ball.

"Guys! Guys! We need to back off!" Jeremy yelled, trying to be the voice of reason in a quickly escalating situation.

It looked as if they were at a stalemate until Elena jerked and grabbed her lower abdomen.

"Elena?" Damon asked, his vampire features fading as he turned his head to look at her, his eyes round as saucers.

She jerked again and let out a moan.

"Damon?" she gasped confusion, looking up at him with pain in her eyes.

"Oh, Baby, please don't tell me what's happening is what I think is happening…" he pleaded.

"Oh, I don't think so," Gloria stated, waving a hand right before Elena went limp.

"What did you do?" he demanded, rounding on her, his eyes flashing red.

"Kept her from going into premature labor. The last thing we need right now is for her to have this baby five weeks early. We ain't ready for that," the witch explained.

He grudgingly had to agree as he gathered Elena's unconscious body into his arms and held her close, stroking her hair and pressing his lips to her brow.

"It'll be okay, Baby," he promised.

The others approached the bed cautiously as if he were a dangerous, cornered animal, which was probably not too far from the truth. He flinched when Ric put a gentle hand on his shoulder but offered no aggression. His beast was leashed, or as leashed as it got these days, and he had no desire to harm his friend.

"It's gonna be okay," Ric assured him.

He nodded and ducked his face into Elena's hair to hide the fact that his eyes were moist with unshed tears. He heard and felt Gloria sit on the edge of the bed, and her hand came to rest on top of one of his.

"We're gonna figure this out," she vowed, giving his hand a tender squeeze. "I'll cast a spell that'll reveal if there are any more hidden caches of weapons here."

"Then what?" he asked, lifting his head as he got his emotions under control.

"Then she'll have to be confined to this room. If she can't be trusted, we need to make sure her actions and movements are strictly controlled."

"That makes her as much of a prisoner as she was when Klaus had her," he argued.

"At least you won't compel her to have sex with a stranger in order to breed a new doppelganger," Jeremy replied, offering a little comfort.

"Point."

He uncurled himself from around Elena and positioned her on her side with a pillow in the small of her back the way he knew she liked it. With her growing belly, she'd found sleeping more and more uncomfortable. He brushed her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear as he covered her up with the blankets and gave her a kiss on her temple.

"She'll be okay when she wakes?" he questioned.

"She'll be fine. Nothing I did will hurt her or have any lasting effects," Gloria promised.

"Okay."

"Lemme cast this spell, and we'll see if there are any more surprises waiting for us," the witch said, pushing her bracelets up her arms to keep them from getting in her way.

He, Ric and Junior Gilbert waited anxiously as Gloria sent out her magic to illuminate any more hidden caches of weapons. There were a few stakes and vervain syringes hidden around the room and bathroom, but no large stashes like the one in the floor. Damon had to admit the stake tucked behind a loose stone in the shower stall was creative.

When the room had been disarmed, for sure this time, they left Elena sleeping with Jeremy taking babysitting duty. With his Ghost Whisperer talents, Witchy Woo could be in on their conversation downstairs and fill the younger Gilbert in on what was being decided.

"So now what?" Damon asked as they settled in the parlor, and he poured himself and Ric a hefty drink. He offered one to Gloria, but she declined as she sat down on one of the sofas and rubbed her face with her hand.

"I'll be the first to tell you I don't know," she said with a tired sigh. "Klaus has 900 years on me, Sugar. There's no telling what he can do or what he'll think up next. He always terrified me, and I did my best to steer clear of him."

"So did I," he replied, "and that was before I knew he was the Original douche and not just some regular douche my brother decided to run with. Unfortunately, I don't think avoiding him is going to be an option this time."

"No. We're going to have to out think him," Gloria admitted.

"We need Lucy Bennett. A Bennett witch can best channel Bonnie. I know you said you could do it, but…" Ric began.

"But it's better if the host is from the same bloodline. Yes," the witch confirmed.

"Unfortunately, there's been no sign of Lucy Bennett for months. She must've heard we're looking for her, and she's gone into hiding," Damon stated.

"Would she do that?" Ric asked.

"If someone was looking for you to ask you to help take down a thousand year-old vampire werewolf hybrid that had partnered with the Original Witch in your bloodline, would _**you**_ stick around?" Damon replied.

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"She won't be able to hide forever. A few weeks ago, word came down that Klaus was looking for a Bennett witch, and Lucy is the most well known witch in that line," Gloria explained. "With Klaus looking for her, too, she's bound to surface before too long."

"Yes, but whose side will she be on?" Ric questioned.

"Ours if she knows what's good for her," Damon said, an edge in his voice.

"What makes you say that, Sugar?" Gloria asked.

"Because if she isn't, she'll be on the losing side," he stated with complete conviction, then he knocked back his drink and downed the bourbon in one gulp.


End file.
